Butterfly
by PinataParty
Summary: Calliope Lightwood is from District 1. She watches the Hunger Games like she is ordered, she watches her best friend and boyfriend get sent off to die. But something is different this time, something in Callie has changed. Without even realizing it, Calliope has become a rebel. All because of Katniss Everdeen, Calliope has turned against her District and fights for freedom.
1. Reaping Day

**A/N: **I will probably AU a little bit on some things since this is all about the difference one person can make. Let me know where it sucks and where it's strong, if I don't have enough development or anything somewhere. The focus of this story is on what happened outside the games. Thought Katniss and Peeta and all those same awesome characters we all love will pop in and out, this mostly focuses on the Districts and what was going on around the Hunger Games before the rebellion. Reviews appreciated :D

**Chapter 1: Reaping Day  
**

_"When a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it can cause a hurricane in another." - Author Unknown _

The young woman lay on her bed staring straight up at her ceiling. Pink, diaphanous curtains billowed around the four poster bed fixed in the middle of her room, but she ignored them. The feeling of wakefulness filled the house around her and she knew it was time to wake up, but something made her limbs feel like lead. Finally, a soft knock on her door.

"Callie?" her mother's voice was muffled by the wood, "Calliope, are you awake?"

A moment of silence passed and Callie said nothing, cold blue eyes fixed on the ceiling. The door creaked a little as it was opened, "Callie, you're going to miss the Graduation Games if you don't get up soon."

Callie sat up quickly and fixed her harsh stare on her mother, "I'm awake, mom. I'll be down in a minute."

The woman didn't leave, instead she made her way to Calliope's bedside and rested a gentle hand on her ankle. Her soft doe eyes watched her daughter sympathetically, so sympathetically it made Calliope sick, "I'm sorry you didn't qualify, darling. Graduating in the top 15 of your class is still impressive, you won't be on your own for long."

"Yes," Callie's voice was veiled with sarcasm, "Such a shame I didn't get the opportunity to slit the throats of my classmates."

Ava Lightwood's gentle gaze flipped like a switch to cold and calloused. She got to her feet and gathered her long blue skirt in her hands, "Get dressed and be downstairs for breakfast. We're going to the Graduation Games and cheering for your friends."

The slamming door made the windows rattle and Calliope tossed back the covers. She was downstairs by the time breakfast was on the table, staring down into her eggs and letting her thoughts consume her. Callie lifted a hand to catch the stray silvery blond curl that had slipped loose from her carefully crafted hairstyle. She raised her hands and rearranged the peridot comb that held it all together so she would not have to deal with another stray hair again. Ava's cool hands were soft on hers as they stopped Callie, taking care of the renegade curl on her own. Calliope looked up at her mother with an apologetic smile, one Ava returned and took her place at the other side of the table.

That was the moment Callie became aware of her stepfather's harsh eyes fixed on her. Scipio's frosty gray-blue eyes were met by the defiance of his stepdaughter's and he cleared his throat, "It's a shame you didn't qualify. I had higher hopes for you."

Short, but it drove the point home like a knife. Callie winced and looked away, popping a slice of melon in her mouth and forcing herself to chew. Scipio was reminding her of her failure and emphasizing his disappointment in her, but he didn't understand. He hadn't been with her on the Qualifying Day and he hadn't been inside her head for the last two years. She clenched her eyes shut for a second to keep the memory at bay, but it came upon her whether she wanted it or not.

All the members of the senior class at the Academy met for Qualifying Day in lieu of final examinations. This would culminate in five girls and five boys to vie for the illustrious honor of being District 1's volunteer for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, just like it always had.

'Hesitation,' the voice in her head said with all the authority of the Instructor, 'is the single weakness all Districts have in common.' And they had preyed on that hesitation in Calliope that day. Pairing her for the second-to-last fight had been simple, Callie should have anticipated it. The announcer put her and Glimmer, childhood friend and closest confidante, together in the ring and the fight began. Calliope had always been the superior fighter of the two, subduing Glimmer had been simple enough. Once she had Glimmer pinned under her, Callie raised her fist for the final knock out blow, but felt her arm slow down. It was only a second's worth of hesitation, but it had been enough. Glimmer, without missing a breath, coiled around her like a snake and reversed their fortunes. Callie was out like a bulb when Glimmer hit her.

The memory was still raw and painful, the embarrassment of it haunted Calliope at the breakfast table and she knew Scipio would continue to punish her with it until he felt she had enough. No more words were spoken, Callie waited for Ava to rise with her stepfather and got to her feet. She smoothed out the mint green chiffon of her dress and fell into line behind her mother. Ava fell back and took her daughter's arm, her voice a whisper.

"Be excited for Glimmer, this could be an incredible day for her," Ava got closer to her, "This could be an incredible day for Marvel."

Callie had steeled herself against his name, ignored the fact that he existed. She and Marvel had been together since she was fifteen, just two short years ago, and now he was going to take to the ring and fight for his place to be the District 1 Volunteer. If Calliope had been any other girl, any other person in District 1, she would have been elated. This would have been a shining moment for her closest friend and the love of her life, but she wasn't. Callie couldn't bring herself to be happy for them, elated for them, anything outside the spectrum of terrified seemed inappropriate.

The door of the limousine slammed shut behind her and made her jump. Callie hadn't even realized she had stepped into the vehicle. Instead, Callie focused on the passing buildings and houses, elaborate columned structures trying so hard to mimic the Capitol. The thought made her snort disapprovingly under her breath.

_Trying to be like the Capitol,_ she thought, _like the Capitol is some Mecca we should aspire to be._

District 1 and her luxurious lifestyle had granted Calliope access to the Capitol that other Districts could only hope for. She had witnessed first hand the gluttony and greed that festered in the city, the vanity and obsession with the Hunger Games. Part of Calliope scolded herself, she should feel blessed to have such a District that was so loved by the Capitol, blessed that her stepfather had taken her in and sent her to the best Academy money could buy. Something about it felt wrong, had felt wrong for a long time.

The door of the limousine opened and Calliope took the hand that extended inwards, stepping carefully out of the car. Marvel smiled down at her and squeezed her hand, lifting it to his lips to give it a gentle kiss, "Calliope Lightwood."

She fought against her own smile and lost, wrapping her arms around his lithe frame and standing on her tip-toes to kiss him. They pulled back and looked at each other, she let him tug loose one of her carefully crafted curls and spin his fingers around it. He kissed her again before releasing her to greet her mother and stepfather. Calliope took a step back and watched him shake hands with Scipio and embrace Ava, they had loved Marvel as though he were their own son. Now, they were thrilled to watch him beat down his fellow Graduates for the title of Volunteer so they could be thrilled to watch him slaughter those who should have been his classmates.

A bitterness filled Calliope's mouth and threatened to extinguish her smile, but she swallowed hard. It seemed cheap and staged that the other Districts didn't receive the training District 1 and 2 had, like they were lambs being led to a slaughter. For the most part, they had been, but every so often one of the outer districts would surprise them and take the victory spot. Calliope ignored the nagging feeling that those victories had been staged, too.

Marvel offered her his arm, "Why the long face?"

She recovered her supportive smile and gave him a small laugh as a consolation prize, "I'm just thinking about the other Graduate competitors you have to go up against today. Tithe and Glory are formidable, especially Glory. The guy is half mountain, half bigger mountain."

Marvel laughed gently, "I'm not worried. Do I look worried?" he pointed at his face, "You shouldn't be either. I'm going to beat them and come home as our Victor."

For a moment, Marvel's expression of confidence faltered as he remembered Glimmer competing for the Female Tribute slot, "Unless Glimmer gets the spot, then she might have to come back as the Victor for me."

It was an ambiguous line to walk, wanting to console your girlfriend on your victory and also console her on her friend's victory. Both of them knew the truth, all the pomp and theater would vanish before them and the only thing in the Arena that would matter is survival.

"I'm not worried," Callie said, trying to ease the tension that had built up, "If I'm lucky one of you will have to stay here and sulk and console me while the other comes back as Victor."

They paused at the entrance to the Stadium and Marvel gave her a quick kiss goodbye before disappearing towards the dressing rooms. She felt a squeeze on her hip and turned around to see Glimmer, crying out with excitement. Glimmer bounced forwards gleefully on her toes and covered Calliope in her arms like a blanket. She may not have been the most intelligent person, but she was the most excitable. Callie forgave her moderate ignorance of the world around her in exchange for her unquenchable happiness. Calliope embraced her back and matched her hopping, eventually pulling away and staring at her friend.

"Can you even believe this day is here? And I get to be a part of it?" Glimmer squealed. Glimmer was tactful, avoiding the possibility of herself and Marvel winding up in the same place and focusing on her own excitement.

"I'm going to be rooting for you, don't tell Marvel. I have to," Callie hugged Glimmer again, "You will apparently knock my ass out if I don't."

Glimmer looked up at the sound of a single bell tolling and looked back to Calliope, wide-eyed, "That's my cue, you're absolutely right," she embraced Callie again, "I'll knock the hell out of you if you don't root for me."

Calliope watched Glimmer disappear behind the double doors of the dressing room and made her way inside. It was easy enough to reconvene with her parents, everyone knew the Lightwood family around here. Scipio was well liked and had tremendous acumen for gems and fine metal crafting, Ava was a remarkable hair stylist. Finding someone to direct her towards them was a simple task and Callie took her place among the crowds in the stadium.

Finally, the announcer boomed over the loud speakers, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the annual Graduation Games of District 1!"

A cry of excitement drowned out the speaker for a moment, people were on their feet applauding and shouting. Calliope remained where she was, tapping her hands together weakly.

"Today have the incredible privilege of watching our own Graduates compete for the crucial role of Volunteer in this year's 74th Annual Hunger Games," another cheer, "Our first match will take place between Gleam Hortium and Glory Fidentis!"

The match was brief, it was miraculous that Gleam had even made it as far as the Graduation Games. Glory was a better fighter and weighed twice as much as he did, the match was without question. Glimmer was in the first round, against Ibis Avis. Nobody liked Ibis, she was pretentious and cocky. That cockiness gave Glimmer the upper hand and on the path to victory. There were only a few matches, the winner of the first round would keep fighting until all combatants had been in the ring one time. Whoever lasted the longest emerged victorious.

Glory had made it to the fourth round when he came up against Marvel. Calliope felt her grip tighten on the armrest when the fight was announced, Ava's fingers squeezed against hers as they watched. The match was close, Glory was immense, but his size made him easily winded. Marvel had the benefit of endurance on his side when he landed the blow that took Glory out of the running. Calliope couldn't help herself, the shot to her feet and cheered with the rest of them. For a moment, she forgot her misgivings about the entire pageant, if it could even be called a pageant. It was thrilling to watch her longtime love conquer the unconquerable, it made her chest hurt with hope.

Reality set in after a moment, and Callie sat back down in her seat slowly. Ava looked down at her and touched her hair, "Callie, are you okay?"

"Yes," she swallowed hard, "Fine."

One more match. If he made it past Tithe, he would be the Tribute. Then he would be the Victor, or the Vanquished. Calliope didn't have particular confidence either way.

Glimmer's final round took place right after Marvel's first, against an eighteen year old girl named Prene. Prene was formidable, stealthy, and cunning. She fought like a trapped snake in the grass, fluid and venomous. Glimmer caught her second wind when her arm was pinned and she was pitched forward, throwing herself back against the lighter girl and landing a whirling kick to the side of her head.

The audience erupted, they had their female Tribute. Calliope felt her body go numb and stared straight ahead. Images flashed through her mind over and over again. Glimmer helping her with math homework when they were twelve, exploring the vast backyard of Calliope's sprawling estate, their first hand-to-hand training at fourteen, their survival course where they would have frozen to death if Glimmer hadn't insisted they huddle close for warmth. Ten years of childhood, of youth, of friendship faded into the blackness of the future. She couldn't clap. Calliope's hands were like rocks, she couldn't lift them to be anything but terrified.

The final match between Tithe and Marvel barely played out before, her but she could tell from her mother's screaming who had been crowned the male Tribute. Callie got to her feet slowly and let her arms work independently of her brain, let them applaud like she was supposed to, let herself smile like she was supposed to. Inside, she couldn't stop screaming.

Calliope Lightwood had been raised to believe the Hunger Games were the apex of existence for the youths of District 1. It had been drilled into her day after day of her young life that she should aspire to be the female Tribute and make her District proud. Somewhere along the way, Calliope lost sight of that feeling of District pride. If you had asked her, it happened two years ago on the 72nd Hunger Games. She was fifteen and watched the student she had most admired make her way to the top of the charts, departing as the female Tribute that year. Calliope had glued herself to the Games like all her fellow students had, watched with the same amazement the Capitol pushed for in all the propaganda. It was watching with such urgency that had started to turn Callie's mind away from the jingoism and the sense of nationalism. She watched the cameras when her family was asleep, watched the female Tribute weeping and praying to whatever force controlled fate to let it end. Tributes who began as icons devolved into animals right in front of each other, but it was like nobody noticed. Or cared.

Callie didn't know when she had gotten up and walked away, but suddenly she was up and hugging Glimmer and letting Marvel kiss her face over and over again. She heard herself exclaiming happily for them, talking about her pride in both of them, but she never remembered thinking these things.

"I can't believe the two most important people in my life are the Tributes," she said, more truthfully than she intended, "This is surreal."

Callie wasn't sure if they heard the fear in her voice, Marvel gripped her tightly, "This is incredible. I can't believe we're going to be in the Games. One of us is going to be the Victor. Either you'll get to be the love of one Victor's life, of you'll get to be like a sister to the other. Everyone wants to be you right now, Cal."

She laughed and pulled both of them in for a tight embrace, one full of desperation and fear, but let them believe it was pride surging through her limbs.

_Everyone wants to be me,_ she repeated, _except me._

Calliope's mother hadn't needed to wake her up on Reaping Day. Callie hadn't been able to sleep, so she didn't need to be woken up. The last few days were a blur, Glimmer had no time for anyone but herself and Marvel had shown up once to spend time with her and watch one of the Capitol's many fashion channels for a few hours. It had seemed so painfully normal in the moment that she forgot she could be sending him off to his death when she kissed him goodbye.

Today felt real, though. She was entirely in her body today, the day she sent her best friend and the man she loved off to die. Ava snuck in and set herself up behind Calliope, running her fingers though her damp hair, "I heard the shower."

"Couldn't sleep."

"So much excitement today, I can't blame you," Ava blamed it on excitement. Calliope hid her scowl at the wrongness of the moment. She shouldn't be standing there full of praise to watch children slaughter one another, as a mother Ava should be outraged that parents must sit in front of a screen and watch their children die to the cheers and fanfare of fans.

Calliope let Ava weave her hands through her hair with a heat brush, drying it and stroking it. Ava coaxed and teased the fine strands into an ornate braid, thick and tight on the right side of her head. It burst forth on the left side in a flood of curls. Tiny crystals so small they looked like raindrops were scattered through her hair, a single strand of thin gold leaves woven into the braid. Callie got to her feet and let the ivory silk of her blouse cling to her body like a second skin, her black skirt tight over the feminine curves of her thighs. Ava stepped back and let out a sigh of admiration.

"I can't believe either of them would be able to leave you," Ava hugged her daughter and left abruptly, not giving her a moment to respond.

The last Reaping Day, Ava had become so flustered by Calliope's rage at the whole thing that she just left. This time, Ava didn't plan to listen to her daughter's heretical comments on the Capitol and the perversion of the Hunger Games. Calliope instead stood looking at herself in the mirror. She hardly felt herself move when she threw the paper weight from her desk, shattering the glass to the floor. Without even breathing, Callie strode out of the room purposefully.

District 1 was a hive and the inhabitants were the bees, buzzing around the buildings and making their way through the sidewalks and down the immaculately clean streets to the square. The square itself was unlike anything the outer Districts would have imagined. A tall marble fountain highlighted with gold leaf had been turned off for the ceremony. Tall Corinthian columns surrounded the square and sectioned off the facades of shops from the mass of persons surging in to watch the Tributes as they left. Calliope extended her hand and permitted the Peacekeeper to prick her finger, accepting the gratuitous apologies given for hurting her otherwise lovely peach skin. They both knew it was for show. She looked around and saw - as ususal - all the age groups and genders were mixed. The Capitol hardly even went to the extent to feign decorum, they knew as well as the residents of District 1 that it was unnecessary to divide the youths here.

Calliope made out the only familiar face she could among the crowd: the hulking mountainous form of Glory Fidentis sticking out like a sore thumb. Callie let her elbow graze his and she peered up at him as he in turn looked down. Glory gave her a conciliatory smile, "Today must be hard for you."

His voice was deep and baritone, he was intimidating, blunt, very to-the-point. Calliope appreciated that about him at the Academy and found herself appreciating it now. Nothing in his tone implied that she was to be pitied for not being up there, all of it implied what she felt.

"It is. Thank you," Callie did him the courtesy of being blunt back.

"It's strange," he said, his voice low as it could be, "I am supposed to be mad at myself for not being where Marvel is."

"Are you not?"

"Not even a little."

What had passed between them danced on the line of treason in the eyes of the Capitol, so Calliope didn't respond. Glory had been somewhat of a friend to her at the Academy in his own way. Callie smiled and recalled the one time she had sparred with Ibis and Ibis had taken things too far, exploiting a weak moment Calliope had not yet noticed in her style. She remembered the weak flurry of fists and kicks, remembered blacking in and out as it happened. Suddenly, the flurry of Ibis stopped, Callie opened her eyes and watched as Glory lifted Ibis off her like a doll. She let herself black out again and when she came to, she was cradled in his surprisingly gentle arms being carried to the infirmary. Later, Glimmer told her how Glory had declined a gurney and wished to carry her himself.

Marvel had gone ballistic, of course, because he didn't see the gesture as one of quiet chivalry. Calliope let in the thought that he wasn't of the capacity to understand it, then scolded herself. It was not wise to think ill of one's significant other, or so Ava had always told her.

Calliope had seen it differently, had seen Glory differently. Glory wasn't moving in on her, not in the way Marvel thought. He was a barrier trying to erect itself around her, around all of the pupils. Glory wasn't interested in the esteem of being a Victor, he was interested in going so his other classmates wouldn't have to.

Nobody else had seen this in him.

The two of them stood silently together as the escort took the stage. She was a lean woman, tall and her skin blotched lavender. Her hair had been twisted and twirled, it looked almost like a dove's tail and was layered with white feathers. Her long, tight dress matched the ensemble, continuing the theme of doves. The woman took to the stage and produced her cards, "Good morning everyone. Welcome to the Reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

The crowd around them erupted into cheers and shouts of excitement, Callie and Glory stood silently and watched the screens ahead of them.

"My name is Delia Montague, I am thrilled to be standing before you today for the great honor of escorting the male and female Tributes from District 1 to the Capitol!" More cheers, "But first, a short film before we begin."

Glory and Calliope watched the film - played every year - as it flickered across the screens before them. Heads bowed, some people dabbed at tears, others covered their mouths and displayed appropriate amounts of shame and reverence. Callie caught Glory's eye and he rolled them, she smiled and appreciated the gesture to brighten her spirits quietly.

Finally, the film finished and the crowd applauded. Delia looked up at the crowd again, "That always gives me goosebumps. Now, without further delay, we will draw for the female Tribute first."

"I volunteer," Glimmer's voice rang out over the crowd, authoritative yet expected. It was a show, a display. Delia had long been informed of who would be on that train with her, but she feigned shock and appreciation.

"Well, this is a surprise! May I present-" Delia trailed off and let Glimmer speak for herself.

"Glimmer Reets," she smiled at the crowd winningly, a heartbreaker in every sense of the phrase.

"Glimmer Reets! You brave young woman, I am sure you will make your District proud." More cheers, "Now, for the gentlemen."

"I volunteer," Marvel, already standing on stage, stepped forwards and extended his hand to Delia. He kissed hers gently and flashed a cheeky grin at the camera.

Delia fanned herself and laughed politely, "Well, this is certainly an easy job you've given me, Mr.?"

"Marvel Landmen," he smiled again at her charmingly.

Calliope's stomach lurched, but she felt a hand grasp hers and give it a squeeze. She let herself lean into Glory's massive shoulder to steady herself and forced her eyes back to the stage.

"May I present to you the male and female Tributes representing District 1, Marvel Landmen and Glimmer Reets!"

Cheers and shouts rang out, echoing in the basin of the marble square. Calliope's head grew light and she felt the world slide out from under her, all she could see was Glimmer's princess wave and her smile. Marvel's cheeky half grin and his bold hand stretching out like it could stop her from falling, but she knew better. This was the moment the two of them had lived for, Glimmer and Marvel. This was the moment they had waited to bask in their whole lives, regardless of whether it meant leaving Calliope behind.

Callie felt her knees turn into water and a strong arm snatched up her shoulders to keep her from falling. Glory sighed and looked down at her, "Should I take you to see him or her before the train? You won't have time for both."

His tone implied he wished to be gentle with the fact, but he couldn't be. Callie knew that. She nodded, "Her."

That word would haunt her for the rest of her life, but Calliope didn't know that yet. Callie's confidence was greater in Marvel than in Glimmer, she took the moment to choose the weakest of two links. Glory led her slowly to the train station and the Peacekeepers let her inside, not Glory. Glimmer had requested Calliope be on her list of persons to say goodbye to.

The door open and the young women embraced each other tightly, squeezing hard and saying nothing. Glimmer shuddered for just a moment and exposed her secret fear, "You picked me."

It was a statement, not of surprise or accusation, just a statement. Calliope nodded, "I've known you since I was seven years old, I've known Marvel since I was fourteen. I have to say the person I've known since I was capable of remembering stuff takes precedence."

"You picked me," Glimmer said again, happier this time, and squeezed Calliope hard, "Go on, give me some last minute advice. Hurry up."

Callie laughed, "Uh, I don't know. Remember body heat is the best thing in the winter, kick your feet when you swim, and stay alert." The last portion Callie said with a level of conviction Glimmer didn't expect.

A knock on the door and a nod from the Peacekeeper made them hug again before Calliope was removed from the room. Something about the last statement she made to Glimmer was final, something about it was definite.

"I love you, Glim," Callie said as she left, turning back just for a second, "Don't die out there."

The door closed, that was it. That was the last time Calliope Lightwood would see her best friend in the whole world, the wave from the stage was the last time she would see the love of her life. In her soul, she knew it. Every fiber of her body tingled with the knowledge that she wouldn't see either of them alive again.


	2. Destruction

**A/N:**Still chugging strong on this. I don't feel like I need to describe the technology or a lot about the surroundings. I thought it would be interesting to place a character in one of the favored Districts and watch them unravel. Again, let me know what sucks and what doesn't suck. It's been a while since I've read the books, so correct me if I miss things or get something wrong.

**Chapter 2: Destruction**

_"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly." - Richard Bach  
_

Calliope couldn't help herself, she sat in front of the hologram and watched the screen during the Opening Ceremonies. The parade had been incredible, watching Glimmer and Marvel made up in riches and luxury some of these Districts hadn't seen in decades did give her a well-trained sense of pride in her District. It was the tail end of the parade that had kept her glued to the hologram, though, watching this no-name girl from this rinky-dink District 12 ride in trailing fire in her wake. Something in her face, in the defiance in her eyes, was riveting. Callie stared at her and couldn't look away, not from her or her fellow Tribute.

"That District 12 girl," Ava said at dinner that night, "She is a beauty, and her fellow Tribute! Did you hear she volunteered for her sister? First ever in their District."

Scipio let out a slight scoffing laugh at that, as though they should be ashamed, "It's a shame such a striking girl won't come out of there."

Callie felt a surge of defiance in her veins, recalling the girl's hard look at the camera, "Why won't she?"

The question created a chasm of silence in the room, big enough that their servant girl may have fallen through it if she wasn't careful. Scipio stared at her, surprised at first, then positioned himself to stare her down, "Because those are the Districts who learn the lessons the Hunger Games are designed to teach. We have the support of the Capitol, the luxury of the Academy, and the blessing of skill. This girl comes from District 12. Do you know what they are known for?"

Calliope felt her cheeks grow hot, but she refused to look away from Scipio. She refused to let him break her down with his condescension and his sneering, "Coal."

Scipio nodded, "Yes, coal. They don't have any of the necessary preparation for victory."

"Sometimes a District surprises you. Remember Finnick O'Dair? Haymitch Abernathy was a Victor from 12."

He slammed his fist down on the table, outraged at his stepdaughter's defiance, "I don't know what treasonous bullshit has been filling your head or where it's coming from, Calliope Lightwood, but in this house we are loyal to the Capitol. You will watch the Games, you will root for your friends, and you will speak the allegiance when you are asked."

Callie caved, she turned her gaze away and got to her feet. Nobody spoke when she left the table and disappeared into her room silently. Nobody had been filling her head with treasonous thoughts, nobody had been whispering anti-Capitol sentiments into her ears. Calliope watched the screen as Caesar Flickerman's plastic, surgically altered face started giving a breakdown of the stylists for that year.

_Nobody had to whisper anything to me. I just opened my eyes and looked,_ Callie felt hot, angry tears welling up in her eyes as the words filled her head. She was alone in her District, isolated as the only person in the city who felt this way.

Calliope tried to see the Hunger Games any other way than lambs being led to slaughter for the entertainment of a Capitol that didn't care about its citizens. It didn't work. She sat in front of the window in her room and changed the view, flicking through the backgrounds until settling on a beach at sunset. She let out a long sigh and hugged her knees to her chest. Marvel and Glimmer, pulled away from her probably forever for the entertainment of the wealthy. Calliope bit her lip and fought back her own tears, refusing to let herself be as soft as she knew she was.

The District 12 girl - Katniss Everdeen, Caesar had said her name was - wouldn't cry like this. She had an empty cynicism in her face that made her seem older than she was, a defiance in her eyes that made Calliope feel in her bones she couldn't be alone. Finally, she wiped her face and got to her feet, turning the screen back to a pane of clear glass overlooking the sprawling back yard of the estate.

Calliope shoved her feet into training shoes and wiped the makeup off her face. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and zipped up a black sweatshirt. She didn't feel like dressing up to leave the house right now, she felt like a doll whose flaws were only being masked instead of being fixed. Suddenly, the estate felt cheap. She felt cheap. Walking through the front door, Calliope felt the temporaneousness of her own life.

Her feet carried her, Calle didn't so much tell them where to go. She didn't look at the shops lit up by the light of dusk, shop keepers fixed on the hologram screens watching Caesar's commentary on the Parade and the histories of each District. Perfumers and Hair Stylists and Furriers, shops upon shops heaped with luxurious goods and the dextrous hands of professionals. Nobody looked at her twice, everyone prattled about the upcoming interviews and what scores Glimmer and Marvel would get. Overnight Calliope's best friend and boyfriend had become stars, celebrities the likes of which Calliope would never achieve. Even if either of them came out of that Arena, they wouldn't be the people she had said goodbye to.

Nobody talked about it, but the Victor never seemed to emerge quite as unscathed as they pretended. Callie had seen it, the torture in the eyes of the Victor. It was like a dim light on in the back of a house you aren't quite sure exists, but if you looked hard enough you could make out a door or a person standing in the back room. The Victor always seemed to come back as two people: a public face that smiled and reveled in the glory and riches that came with victory, and a secret face that nobody talked about yet everybody knew in the back of their minds existed.

Calliope wondered when they had let themselves slip into this routine; into this nationalist farce that may buy them favor in the short term, but didn't make them any less servants of the Capitol. It was a joke, when she thought about it. Everyone in District 1 cozied up to the Capitol, visited the Capitol, made friends there, wined and dined with their clients at private parties, but nevertheless they still paid Tributes the day of the Hunger Games. All of this buttering up and cozying to the true upper class accomplished nothing, but they still did it.

_It's like a compulsion_, Callie ignored the foul feeling in her stomach, _like we can't get enough of pretending to be like those people in the Capitol. All of us do it, we all pretend to be them. In the end, we get Reaped and we get slaughtered just like the Districts they're trying to teach a lesson to_.

Lost in her own thoughts, Calliope didn't even see the hulking figure standing in the dark watching the primary hologram broadcasting in the square. She walked right into him and let out a cry of surprise, "Oh!"

Hands caught her and steadied her. Glory let out a low baritone laugh, "Hello to you, too."

"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," Calliope was suddenly self conscious in plain clothes and completely unstyled hair. In her heart she knew this was just a compulsion and not a real feeling, but it didn't stop her from feeling it.

"Where are you going this late?" It wasn't late, but Glory was trying to make conversation.

Calliope shrugged, "Nowhere. Everyone I would go see tonight is…" she let her sentence trail off and he didn't wait for her to finish it.

"I like the Tributes this year. That District 12 girl and her partner, Katnips and Peter?" Glory asked.

"Katniss and Peeta," she corrected him gently.

Glory nodded, "Yeah. They seem...different. A volunteer from an outlying District is almost completely unheard of. The idea that someone would stand up for her fellow District member doesn't seem to be sitting well, though."

Something in his tone made Calliope know he was smiling in the darkness. She gave a slow nod, "I'm not sure why, it's not like us at all. Our Volunteers are known from the beginning by the Escorts, but there isn't anything in the decree that says she can't volunteer."

Glory was studying her in the dark, his expression stern, "Yes you are."

She was. Calliope swallowed hard and pushed the thought out of her head, forced herself to look cheerful. The volunteer from District 12 was not a good sign, it turned the wrong kind of heads to look at District 12. The kind of heads who would assume it was an act of rebelliousness against the Capitol and not the sororital love of a sister that pushed Katniss to volunteer. The air in District 1 was changing, it was probably changing in District 2 as well.

Glory nudged her with his elbow, "I'm just teasing you. Are your parents going to the ceremony at the Presidential Palace this year? Mine are making me go whether I want to or not."

He had emphasized the last statement with a note of sadness, or was it bitterness? He had always been so quiet at the Academy, he had said barely two words to her the entire last year. Now here they were standing in the square talking about their feelings together and asking about each other's plans.

_We share something._ Calliope thought. She wouldn't say what it was, that would be treason. She was convicted in her house about her feelings towards the Hunger Games, but here on the streets if the wrong person knew how she felt about them it could lead to a fate worse than death. As if on cue, Calliope's stare followed the bowed-head figure of an Avox trailing behind a woman adorned in pinks and purples, carrying an intricate lace parasol despite the darkness that had settled into District 1. She shuddered.

"I suppose, my mother has been commissioned to style the Lavinius' hair for the occasion. They almost always tell her to join the party with them, so I will probably have the opportunity to prance around in some outrageous costume that defies gravity," she laughed politely as though she was making a joke about the stylists. Both of them knew better, though Glory laughed all the same.

"Let me walk you home. It's dark," the streets of District 1 weren't exactly dangerous what with the sheer volume of money that existed in it, but Calliope nodded and humored him.

They were quiet when they walked, Callie played with one of the slow curls in her ponytail and looked up at the stars. The farther away they walked from the main outlet, the clearer the sky became. Stars winked overhead like a thousand tiny eyes gazing down on the world.

_I wonder what those stars would say,_ she thought, _if they could talk. What would they say about this ridiculous pageant_.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for the kind of girl to leave her house without a pair of heels," Glory broke her concentration.

"Huh?" Callie looked down at herself, "Oh, well. I guess there are some things about me that would surprise you."

"I'm willing to bet that's true," Glory's eyes were fixed on her as they walked, "You don't care for the Games, do you?"

Now that they were far enough from the city center, they could talk more openly. Neither of them let their voices raise so much as an octave above a whisper nevertheless, JabberJays were still in existence and still liked to repeat what they heard. Calliope shook her head.

"Neither do I," Glory's voice was so light it almost disappeared with the breeze, "They call them Games, but they don't feel that way, do they?"

"No," she whispered, "But talking like this is enough to turn us into Avoxes in this District."

"Yes, in _this_ District," bitterness seethed in his voice now, "where we are supposed to pal around with the Capitol and do everything in our power to assimilate with them."

Silence fell between them again, Glory reached out and touched her shoulder lightly. His massive hand was so surprisingly light that she almost didn't feel it through the fabric of her sweatshirt, "If something happens to either of them, I'm here if you want to talk."

"Something will happen to either of them," Calliope spoke without thinking, "There is only one Victor, remember?"

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the front door of the Lightwood Estate. Calliope and Glory stopped at the edge of the path towards the house, they faced one another and kept their eyes on the door of the house. Concrete and glass, angular and modern looking set in the middle of an otherwise pretty meadow. Trees lined the limits of the property, separating the Lightwood property from the other estates surrounding them. A hologram sprung to life on one of the pedestals lining the pathway and Ava's face appeared.

"Oh, Callie! It's just you, I thought we had visitors," Ava eyed Glory's almost invisible form in the darkness, "Hello, um-"

"Glory, Misses Lightwood," he gave her a small, but respectful bow.

Ava surveyed him carefully, "Right," her eyes switched back to Calliope, "You best come inside, no telling what could happen in the dark."

The implication was that Calliope was doing something unsavory with Glory, but the screen switched itself off before she could protest. Instead, Callie sighed, "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. She has a right to worry," Glory laughed a little. Calliope couldn't help but smile when he laughed, his deep throaty voice was infectious when it wasn't whispering secrets of treason and rebellion.

"Thank you for walking me home. I might have to take you up on your offer of a shoulder to cry on this month," she tried to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn't. Instead, Calliope lurched forwards and hugged Glory tightly.

It wasn't attraction that was passing between them, it wasn't love that made her grip so tight. It was connection. She was connecting with Glory in a way she hadn't been able to connect with anyone in years, not since she had started to see the Hunger Games for what they were. Calliope had tried to talk to Marvel about them, but he saw her concerns as strategy plans and interpreted them as her talking about how Districts 1 and 2 would keep winning. He had never exactly been intelligent, but he was kind at heart. Marvel's spirit was good, but he wasn't trained to be good. Part of Calliope believed he felt the same way for a while, but it became clearer and clearer that Marvel didn't. He truly believed in the efficacy of the Games and the glory of his District.

Calliope tried to voice her concerns to Glimmer once, too. Glimmer ignored them and said that was part of the allure of the Hunger Games.

"It's why people watch," Glimmer said, gesturing to the image of one Tribute slashing the throat of another, "We watch because we know who the true rebel Districts are. We watch to make sure they are put in their place, that they quash any thoughts of rebelling. They were the ringleaders last time, it's only fitting they pay the heaviest price."

"And what about us?" a fifteen year old Calliope shot back, "Why do we pay Tributes if they're the ones who started it?"

"To remind us not to follow blindly again. It reminds us where the true power is, keeps our people humble," Glimmer popped a grape in her mouth and turned away, ending the discussion.

Here, though, standing at the head of the path hugging the man who was half mountain and half bigger mountain Calliope felt she wasn't alone. Something was going to change, the winds had begun to blow in another direction and she could feel it in her bones. She was sure Glory felt it, too, and that's why he had gravitated to her. Together, they weren't so alone anymore.

Callie pulled back and stared up at him. Glory's dark eyes looked down at her, filled with knowledge and understanding. He was a doorway, a path all on his own. They knew they needed to take action, knew something was coming that would push them towards their truest fate. She stared intensely at his face just for a moment, willing him to feel the same way. He ran an olive skinned hand through hair so black it blended with the night behind him.

Glory turned away from her then, lifting his hands and shoving them in his pockets. Calliope watched him fade into the darkness and let herself feel the flood of relief, the ebbing of the tide of loneliness that had seemed to hit her so hard earlier. She spun on her heel and marched inside confidently.

Ava swarmed her when she came inside, "Why would you go out of the house like that?!" she cried, "What if one of my clients had seen you?! If I can't make my own daughter beautiful, how am I going to make them?" Ava placed her hands on slender, almost emaciated hips, "Don't go out like that again, what's gotten into you?"

"I don't know," was all Calliope said with a sigh. She pulled away from her birdlike mother and walked slowly up the stairs, collapsing back on her bed without even taking her shoes off. Callie stared up at the ceiling again and smiled slowly.

_I have a friend_, she thought. It caused a slight twinge of pain remembering her only other friend in the world was going to die willingly for the entertainment of others.

Calliope had friends at the Academy, indeed she had actually been quite popular. She was attractive and skilled, a great sparring partner and incredibly accurate with throwing knives. It had been Callie's weapon of choice since she started at the Academy, she could hit a moving target dead center from around a corner. Hand-to-hand combat had been her secondary skill, like all the other students. Calliope liked to approach it from a different angle, when she sparred she would give advice to her fellow students. Sometimes, this led them to best her, but it didn't feel wrong.

One day, one of the Instructors pulled her aside. Instructor Lark had scolded her harshly, "You are supposed to exploit your opponents weakness, not help them overcome it."

"What if I don't want to exploit them," she snapped. Calliope didn't care for being scolded, that was what consistently got her in trouble with the Instructors.

"If you ever want to see the crown or run through the Victory Tour, you will want to," Lark's cold green eyes stared her down and his talon of a hand curled around her arm and squeezed, "Your job is not to instruct, Calliope Lightwood. Your job is to learn and to become an apex hunter. An apex hunter doesn't teach its prey how to avoid its jaws."

"It's a good thing they aren't my prey. These are my friends, I'm going to help them be better," Callie had fought against the pain in her arm where Lark's grip tightened.

"Don't you get it?" he hissed, "You don't _have _friends. These people are your competition, not your friends."

That was the moment Calliope's view had changed on the people around her. As much as it pained her, Lark was right. These people weren't her friends, they were exploiting her weakness as much as she was helping them fill in theirs. She had stopped coaching anyone after that except Marvel and Glimmer, the only two people she felt she could be honest with. After that, Calliope removed herself mentally from her circle of friends, smiled on the outside while she was seething on the inside. As she stopped teaching people how to overcome their weak points in combat, she also saw those she considered herself close with trickle away until only Marvel and Glimmer remained.

There had been Tithe, too. He was terrifying in combat, he sparred with Calliope regularly and didn't abandon her when she stopped telling him where he was failing. Instead, Tithe worked with her more, up until Qualifying Day.

Graduation had changed a lot for the Academy students, they were no longer in classes and now actively sought out apprenticeships in other professions. Glory was working with his father as a metalsmith, Tithe was working with his father a furrier, and Calliope was supposed to begin shadowing her mother as a hair stylist. Now was the time when they stopped being combat students and started existing outside their bubble of studenthood in the real world.

Calliope's body jerked awake. She hadn't realized she was sleeping when she recounted these memories to herself. Dawn had begun to stretch its tired gray-pink limbs over the sky, dew sat heavy on the grass in the yard. Birds chirped and twittered, the muttation Horsys grazed on the grass in the distance and twitched their colorful tails back and forth lazily.

Callie found herself completely alert, like she had gotten more than a few hours' sleep. She stretched and got up, peeling off the starchy feeling sweats and running a hot shower in her ornate marble and glass bathroom. She tugged her tangled hair free and stood at the window for a moment, watching the world outside. It seemed bizarre, unreal to her that she was getting ready to take a scented shower while Marvel and Glimmer trained vigorously in some underground facility. It was like the world had plucked the two most important people from her planet and let it continue to turn. Nothing had really changed other than Calliope found herself bored at night.

She stepped out of the shower, soaked and smelling of rose petals, and stood in front of the fogged mirror. Callie touched the side of the mirror and a menu screen popped up under her hand. She punched in numbers and the fog faded from the mirror, punched in more and part of the glass slid away to reveal her makeup collection. She opened the closet door behind her and used the floating pad to rifle among the layers and layers of clothing that waited for her, some of it never even worn out of the house.

Calliope was overwhelmed by meaninglessness again. All of these beautiful things under her fingertips and most of them had never even touched her skin. She chose then, a tight pale-blue dress cut away in places and filled in with diaphanous fabric that shimmered like water when it was touched. The whole dress seemed to be alive on her skin, like watching a river flowing under the spring sun. Calliope adorned her eyes with a matching sheer blue and emphasized the thick, feathery eyeliner with tiny pale blue crystals. Her bedroom door opened and she knew it would be her mother coming to work on her hair.

Wordlessly, Calliope sat in the chair at her vanity table and let Ava weave blue silk ribbons into her hair, layering her silvery blond locks with exclamations of color and shimmer dust. When she got to her feet, Ava sighed longingly, "You are such a shining star, little Calliope. You're going to break hearts today."

Today was her first day as Ava's shadow. It wasn't a short day by any means, learning how to sculpt the intricate hairstyles of the demanding Capitolines was as demanding as the Academy in some respects. Calliope's hands were dextrous, years of knife throwing and survival training had given her impressive control over her hands. The women in the boutique shop plastered with red marble and tall Doric columns cooed and crooned over the pieces her hands wove, encouraging her and congratulating her.

"If you keep this up," said one of the women, Ruby, "you could be tapped by one of the Stylists. One day, you could be working in the Capitol, maybe on the Tributes."

They twittered like chickens over this, Callie politely smiled. The same smile she felt like she had been wearing since she woke up, fake and plastic, as though she could peel it off when the day was done. Ava glowed with pride, her chest puffed up like a peacock and she shooed the women away. She rested her hand on her daughter's and shook her head admiringly.

"You have a gift for style, Calliope. This is a good path for you," Ava omitted the part about her failure on Qualifying Day, out of motherly respect.

Suddenly, heads turned towards the hologram screen set in the corner and Ruby clapped her hands excitedly, "They're announcing the scores!"

_Ah yes, the scores_, Calliope caught her scowl in time to hide it under a rosy smile. _This is the part where they get to tell me how deadly my best friend and boyfriend are before shoving them face first out of a plane to die_.

District 1 had the easiest wait, Glimmer's face appeared on the screen and the number 9 rotated around her, "Glimmer, District 1 with a score of 9," Caesar said.

Calliope didn't seem to register what he was saying, she just stared straight at the screen. Marvel's face showed up next, "Marvel with a score of…" a 9 appeared around him as well, "9! Very impressive, District 1 has some fierce Tributes this year."

Claps and twittering again from the women in the shop and Ruby reached out to squeeze Calliope's shoulder, "You must be unbelievably proud. Those friends of yours are lethal!"

Her shoulder felt numb where Ruby had touched it, but she stayed and watched the scores anyway. Every part of Callie's body wanted her to tear herself away from the screen, but she willed herself to stay. She had to stay, Calliope wanted to see what the Tributes from District 12 received. They were all anyone was talking about these days, some of it good and some of it venomous. Mostly the talk among District 1 pushed everyone to root for Marvel and Glimmer and ignore these District 12 wildcards.

Calliope didn't hide her vicious smirk when Katniss Everdeen's head blossomed on to the screen and a 12 rotated around her head. An 8 and a 12, their odds were definitely tipped in one direction. She couldn't help herself when she watched Katniss' face on the screen. Part of Calliope wanted her friends to win, willed them to fight as hard as they could, but another part of her hoped Katniss defied the barriers put up around her and took the crown. The young woman was magnetic and they hadn't even had the interviews yet. Gossip spread about the rebellious District 12 girl who shot an arrow at the Sponsors, that made Calliope smile wider.

She caught herself suddenly and jerked her head away from the screen, _What am I thinking? I should be rallying to support Glimmer and Marvel._

It felt empty, the bit of hope Calliope held on to for them. In her heart she knew District 1's Tributes were doomed this time around. She gathered her things and bid goodbye to the women in the shop for the day, hurrying herself out onto the street. Clouds loomed overhead and she briefly wished she had brought a coat with her. Someone stopped in front of Calliope and appeared to be waiting for her. She looked up and saw Tithe, his face bright, green eyes seemed to smile. His short, light blonde hair was slicked backwards, but rogue tufts had strayed away from his head.

"Calliope! It's been a while," he was cheerful and handsome, deceptively deadly, "We scored well this year, I have a bet going that Marvel will bring it home for us."

She smiled that polite, plastic smile again, "Yes, me, too." She began to walk a little more briskly, but he matched her pace, "How is everything going with your father?"

Tithe shrugged, "It's work. I'm surprised how much I miss the Academy, though. We should spar sometime."

"Sure," Calliope felt herself close off to him. It wasn't that Tithe was a bad person or someone she disliked, but their desires were different. He was interested in the sport of the Games, she was disgusted by it.

They walked together in silence, Tithe stayed as long as he did out of politeness. He lived a few houses closer to the city center than she did and bid her a quiet goodbye. Calliope sighed and relaxed her shoulders when he left, inhaling deeply and smelling the rising tempest on the horizon. A droplet of rain hit her on the cheek, cold and hard like a natural slap in the face. It was refreshing, she turned her face up to the sky and let another and another and another.

By the time she made it inside, Ava was pacing frantically and Calliope was soaked through. Her dress had become a mass of translucent fabric, but Calliope didn't care. She meandered upstairs and ignored her mother's chiding, Callie peeled off the dress like a leather glove left on too long. She sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, using the floating control pad to turn on Caesar Flickerman's face again. Despite herself, she was interested in the interview portion of the Games. It was the only time that viewers got to connect with the Tributes, got to hear their legacy before they died. Calliope felt like missing it would be a disservice.

Glimmer was first, Calliope let out a sharp laugh at the see-through golden dress. _Of course she would wear that. I'm glad to see training to die hasn't changed her personality_.

The students at the Academy had been rigorously trained in public speech and public identity, preparation for their upcoming celebrity. Glimmer utilized this to the utmost degree and played the charm card as much as possible, it was about sponsors now. Marvel followed her difficult act and let himself come across as confident, collected. Marvel joked with Caesar and raised his hands to a screaming crowd when he left.

Calliope gnawed on her lower lip to keep herself from crying. She was determined not to be weak, not to let herself be affected by this. In her own mind, Glimmer and Marvel were gone. Calliope was separated from them forever, it was the only way she knew how to cope with the impending fates of at least one of the people she loved.

Katniss walked carefully onto the screen, unsteady on the heels she must have been wearing under her elaborate gown. Calliope perked up and watched her, gazing warily out over the crowd like she had lost herself in them. Caesar grabbed Katniss' attention and controlled the interview as much as he could, her difficulty with public speech was almost embarrassing for the viewers. Calliope liked it, thought it made her more real. All of these children were being made up to be dolls, nobody wanted to know anything real about them. This moment of weakness made Katniss real, stopped her from being just a pretty face flashing around the District holograms.

Peeta's admission of love for Katniss made Calliope sit up. She stared into his face and covered her mouth, _What a horrible fate_.

Without realizing it, Calliope let herself get swept up in the story Peeta told about Katniss and found her heart aching for the girl barely a year younger than her. It was terrible, the Hunger Games were terrible. Here on the screen anyone who was willing to watch the Games for something more than gruesome entertainment could see clearly how much was ripped away from these children.

Calliope doubled over herself and let out a sharp scream, muffled in one of the throw pillows on her bed. She screamed again and again, the realization of loss around all of Panem was like the rain that poured onto the fields outside her window. Marvel was gone, Glimmer was gone, but it was more than them. It was futures, it was families, friendships, so much loss was taken by the Games it was almost too much to bear.

Calliope lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, fury and sadness swirled in their cold blue depth. She knew then what she wanted, what she burned for.

Calliope wanted to see the Capitol destroyed.


	3. Betting On Someone New

**A/N:**This is a set-up chapter. Setting up what I want to do will take a little while and may be more boring, I apologize. I'm trying to write out the boring stuff in big, long chapters to get it out of the way. Tell me what you like and I'll write more of it, I think I'm developing decent characters to follow. I happen to like Glory a lot, I'm really fond of him as a character and excited for his fate. Yayayaya.

**Chapter 3: Betting On Someone New**

_"I must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery_

The tension coursing through the District was palpable, like Calliope could reach out and break off a piece of it. Now that the final interviews had been completed, the final party would take place at the Presidential Palace and the games would begin the following morning.

Callie was waiting on the elaborate platform beside Ava for the train into the Capitol just as the sun breached the treeline. Hair stylists were a special breed from District 1; the most skilled were actively pursued and sought after during this time and they packed the platform shoulder to shoulder. Of course, what was a stylist if not stylish?

Ava's hair was twisted and twirled in a series of waterfall braids, long strands of colorful feathers rolled down the back of her seafoam green dress. The fabric glistened as she moved, turning to face her daughter who manned the trolley with their supplies. Callie had let herself be done up in the latest fashions, a guinea pig for her mother. Blonde hair was piled on her head and interwoven with dark blue pliable branches, a shorter than she would have liked dark blue dress matched her makeup and adornments. Calliope fought a scowl under her catlike eyes.

"Remember, this is the night that Agrippina Lavinius extends her invitation. We decline once and let her insist, this is the biggest party of the year," Ava's tone grew darkly serious, a shadow flickered across her face, "I don't want to hear a single note of that nonsense come out of your mouth."

Of course by 'nonsense' Ava meant Calliope's growing disdain for the impending Hunger Games. Callie nodded and straightened herself up, listening for the rumble and hiss of the train in the distance. She hadn't wanted to talk much anyway, the reprimand just gave her an excuse.

Part of her mind was detached from the Games, far off in its own meadow of fantasy where this world wasn't real and she still had her friends. The clank and hiss of the train's doors pulled her back rudely and she followed Ava into the car. This train was not like the one the Tributes took into the Capitol, not at all. Calliope and Ava were reduced to standing in painfully arched heels because the seats were packed and there wasn't a single place left on the train.

Everybody looked ridiculous, in Calliope's mind, dressed up in feathers and crystals and vibrant colors. She felt out of place in the deep navy blue Ava had chosen for her, a black sheep in a flock of pastels and neon. The painful truth of that thought made her lips twitch into a bitter smile, but Calliope tried to focus on her breathing. She had pulled away from Marvel and Glimmer, tried to stifle the hope that either of them would win. No matter how hard she tried, Callie still found herself drifting back through memories and thoughts.

Marvel sparring with her as an excuse to flirt, Glimmer throwing a fit when she wasn't very good at making a fire. Images splattered her mind like paint on a canvas, each of them their own individual sore on her heart. Callie swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply.

_In, out. In, out. _She told herself, _Support your District, be cheerful, be excited_.

When she looked up, through the windows of the bullet train Callie saw the Capitol pouring into view. A sprawling expanse of Greco-Roman buildings stuffed into an otherwise beautiful mountain basin.

_A testament to man's arrogance_, Callie watched the rising city skyline with hard eyes. It grew and grew, each building becoming larger until the train disappeared into a tunnel below the Capitol.

The train slowed and stopped, the stylists and their assistants hustled off onto the platform to meet respective drivers and escorts. The color on the platform burst and became alive, everybody looked like tissue paper. Ava led her to a man done up in a tailored suit of blues and lavenders, a top hat emphasized with a stark white peacock quill sat on his head. Ava twittered away with the man, Calliope followed in silence.

The city was terrible where it should have been marvelous, dreadful where it should have been awes-inspiring. The people looked less like people and more like party favors as they meandered through nameless streets. Neon lights and holograms flickered on every corner, cameras fixed on the final morning of training for the Tributes.

Calliope made out Marvel in the holograms, his face fixed and determined, eyes far away. He was proud of his heritage, his District. Marvel was proud of who he was and what he wanted to be. It frustrated Callie to realize how different they had become in two years, how little they had in common anymore. Marvel spoke of glory and victory where Calliope spoke of greed and corruption. Neither of them could have admitted in the moment it was causing a fissure between them, but it was easier to acknowledge now that they were apart.

Glimmer was easy to pick out of this solemn crowd in the layer after layer of projections on the streets. She was smiling and energetic, an acrobat in her exercises and a deadly weapon in her training. Calliope smiled, it placated her feelings of frustration to know that of the two of her friends she was losing, one of them wouldn't really change. If Glimmer was the one to walk away, to emerge victorious, she wouldn't have the feeling of two people. Glimmer would always be Glimmer.

Finally, Ava ushered Calliope into a villa swimming in wealth. Gold leaf everywhere, dark-veined red and white marble took up the atrium and disappeared down the hallways. Clear glass window screens lined the halls with angles on every Tribute still in the training room. Calliope paused at one of them. Katniss was the subject of this camera. The District 12 girl was staring into the lens, as though by sheer force of will it would break into a thousand pieces. Without noticing herself, Calliope had lifted her fingers as though she could touch the girl, pull her through and take her right out of this terrible fate she had been condemned to. A sharp throat clearing from their escort made her hustle to catch up.

"Ava? Ava, darling! It has been too long, we really need to meet more often than the games. You're so much more than a stylist to me!" Agrippina was an older woman, but the amount of work she had done made sure it was impossible to tell. The only reason Calliope knew was because Ava had told her how long she had worked for Agrippina.

"Agrippina! You haven't aged a single day since I met you, this is incredible. If you're hiding the fountain of youth, I'd like to know where it is!" Ava preened back at her, accepting the kisses on her cheeks, "This is my daughter, Calliope. She has been apprenticing with me for a few days, but don't worry. I have complete confidence in her abilities."

"Oh!" Agrippina walked up to her quickly, a cupcake of taffeta and chiffon, "You are gorgeous, young lady. Incredible eyes, very striking. You would have made a most incredible Victor, but I'm sure you will be first in line to congratulate your own District classmates when one of them returns."

It was meant as a consolation, a subtle assurance that Agrippina was betting on Marvel or Glimmer over all other Tributes. This was intended to flatter Calliope, but all it did was fill her with bile, "Thank you, Agrippina, your support is deeply important to our District."

The words felt scripted as they left her mouth, but Callie said them anyway. Ava's watchful eyes nodded approvingly. The two women chattered on about the games and Marvel's prospects of winning, Glimmer's energy and enthusiasm. Calliope tuned them out and watched the comings and goings of the villa. Avoxes bustled around the house, carrying dresses and boxes of makeup, wigs and platters of food. Finally, the moment came.

"You aren't going to the Presidential Palace tonight?" Agrippina exclaimed with false shock, of course a Districter wasn't invited openly to the Palace. It was custom for a Capitoline patron to invite a District resident, this had always been the way it was done.

"I'm afraid not, we haven't received an invitation from a patron," Ava let her tone dip into faked sadness, this entire spectacle was just tradition. They all knew the outcome of the conversation, it took Calliope more energy than it should have to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Then you must come under my name, I insist," Agrippina countered.

"Oh we simply couldn't, we don't want to impose," fake sincerity from Ava, she was a terrific actress.

"I insist, I won't have you decline twice. This is a formal invitation, I will put Scylla on it immediately," two snaps, a servant, and the two Lightwood women were cordially invited to the most deplorable spectacle of the year.

The only reprieve Calliope had from it all came from knowing she wouldn't be by herself. Of course she would have the company of many other District invitees, but knowing there would be one present who could understand how she felt was comforting in itself. So Ava and Calliope devoted themselves to idle prattling about the District and the Tributes, who's-who in the Capitol these days, and most interestingly to her the status of Katniss' stylist, Cinna.

Apparently he had become quite popular among the Capitol elite, the 'Girl on Fire' ensemble had won him a prestigious place over the other stylists to the Tributes. Calliope kept her ears opened for information on the girl from District 12, but there wasn't much Agrippina could say that Calliope didn't already know.

By the time they had finished hair and makeup for Agrippina and everyone attending the party with her, night had just begun to fall. Calliope looked up at the sky as they hustled to the magnetically powered limousine and frowned.

_You can't see the stars,_ she thought. It seemed stupid after the thought had entered her mind. _I am in the Capitol lucky enough to be among the creme de la creme of society and all I can think about is how I can't see the stars?_

It was almost a comical situation for her, Callie stifled a laugh as she ducked into the car. Everyone in the vehicle smelled of rosebuds, the volume of fabric made her feel like she was adrift in a sea of colors. The murmuring of voices seemed to calm her down, made her feel like the noise could wash away the anguish she had been sitting on for days. Calliope glanced to her left at one of the women Agrippina insisted be part of her entourage, someone she had called Cecelia.

The woman was stoic in her own way, quiet where everyone was making idle conversation. Something about her would command a room if she asked, maternal wisdom radiated from her face. She locked eyes with Calliope and Calliope smiled at her, what Cecelia offered in return was kind and reserved.

Calliope leaned in close enough so Cecelia could hear her, "I'm not good at conversation like this either."

"If these were the people who condemned you to die, I could see why," Cecelia's tone was gentle, but her words were coated in venom. Her quiet tone wasn't natural, but one of necessity.

Calliope locked eyes with her and ran the name over and over in her head, she should know this woman who dared to say such a thing to her. This should be someone she knew. Finally, the mist evaporated under the light of knowledge.

"Cecelia Sanchez, you were a Victor," it was a statement of fact, nothing more. Calliope's tone neither contained admiration nor pity.

Cecelia nodded once, slowly, and seemed to appreciate the lack of empathy or celebrity Calliope gave her, "And as such I am obliged to return every year for this festival. You are from District 1?"

"Yes," Calliope smiled amiably.

The expression on Cecelia's face was sympathetic, sad and understanding. No words passed between them, but Cecelia's hand was tight on Calliope's, something like grave sadness passed in the reassuring squeeze Cecelia offered her. Mundane conversation passed the rest of the ride to the Presidential Palace.

It should have been magnificent, impressive, imposing. It looked like a circus. Calliope took the hand of the serving man in the top hat and lifted herself rather indecorously from the car. He steadied her on the soft substance that comprised the driveway and laughed politely.

"No sea legs yet, huh?"

She broke from her sullen quietness into a grin, "I guess not. This is a pretty strange ocean."

Calliope recovered herself and followed in Ava and Agrippina's wake as though she were waiting to pick up after them. Smells of fresh, expensive food filled the air. Noise seemed to close in on her from all angles, she was trapped by the energy of the Capitolines. Excitement seemed to leap off of one shoulder to the next like static, touching everyone with the thrill of the upcoming games. Conversations resounded in her ears about bets and odds and possible sponsors.

Calliope felt ill again, felt her smile slide off her face as though it was never actually there. Music drifted in and out between the conversations, stringy and positive as though everything were coming up roses throughout all of Panem. Calliope climbed the steps slowly, everything seemed to be made of this spongy turf that made her feel like she was walking on blankets. Inside the opulent house she drank in the mahogany and ebony wood floors, the intricately painted walls and delicate curtains. Lights were strewn everywhere, long tables were piled high with foods she had never seen before. Waiters meandered through the labyrinth of guests offering some pinkish liquid, others offered glasses of sparkling champagne.

Calliope snatched one of the flutes of champagne and drained it quickly, letting herself reach up and grab another. She recognized the haggard faces of some District residents, their eyes always seemed to be cloudy with sadness at the waste and luxury of the Palace. One of the men in a bright purple suit locked eyes with her and they shared a moment of mutual frustration. Just a moment though, long enough to let one another know they weren't from the Capitol and short enough that they didn't have to greet one another for it.

Ava and Agrippina had long since disappeared into the waves of people, but it was no matter to Calliope. Districts 1, 2, and 4 all enjoyed a favorable relationship with the Capitol. Her presence would not be a concern to anyone except the Peacekeepers, and only if she went anywhere other than the Palace or to the train station. Callie found herself pushed towards one of the long banquet tables so full of food it was a wonder it didn't break under the weight of it. Things like this had been common in District 1, a wealthy district with few to no persons living an impoverished lifestyle. Food was bountiful, spending was high, homes were huge, privilege radiated from every corner of District 1. Calliope didn't know why the sight of it in the Capitol was more disgusting than the sight of it at home.

_Because they enjoy the same luxuries without any of the price that needs to be paid,_ her inner voice told her, _they reap the spoils of profit from the Districts without making any of the sacrifice. All in the name of punishing the child for the sins of the father._ The literal nature of her thought made her clamp her inner voice shut in a box and file it away.

Calliope stared down at the table and plucked only a few things for her tiny appetizer plate. The man in front of her dressed in vibrant shades of orange chuckled a little.

"Oh no, dear, you won't be able to try everything in one round. Take more, you don't want to miss out!" he was jovial enough, he meant this to be advice for her. Calliope forced herself to smile and picked out one more puffy pastry from the table, pretending to be distracted until he walked away.

"They don't always get why we are reluctant to gorge ourselves," came a voice purring in her ear.

Calliope whirled around and stared into sea green eyes that watched her with a careful intelligence. The man was young, he was dressed in a more subdued style than the Capitolines, the bronze tone of his skin put him as a District resident. His hair was fine and gold in the light of the Palace, his face handsome and seemingly good-humored. Calliope would have been an idiot not to recognize the person in front of her.

"Finnick O'Dair. Victor from District 4," she offered her hand and couldn't stop herself from blushing when he kissed it politely. Finnick never took his eyes off of hers.

"I'm going to say it's a fair guess to believe you're not a local," his voice rolled off his tongue easily and he released Calliope's hand.

She shook her head, "No, District 1."

"Ah, the favorite District," Finnick concealed a note of sarcasm with a charming smile, "You must be proud of your Tributes this year, they are putting on quite a show."

Calliope's grimace was faint, but evident, "I suppose." It was ambiguous, non-committal to either statement.

Finnick was studying her hair and leaned in close to her, his hand reaching around the back of her head. He was so close she thought she smelled the salt on his skin, his abrupt forwardness startled her to inaction. A tug at the comb holding her hair together and long, slow curls tumbled down around her shoulders like silvery snow. The decorative branches crested Calliope's head like a tiara this way.

He smiled at her again, "This is much nicer, you look less serious. Why the long face? Such a lovely girl shouldn't frown so much, it causes wrinkles."

"This is always a stressful time for the Districts," so far the other Victor she had spoken to hadn't come across as keen on the Games, so Calliope took a risk, "what with the bloodbath on the horizon."

Bloodbath was an informal term for the opening shots when the Hunger Games began, it was the moment the Careers laid waste to anyone dumb enough to head right for the Cornucopia. Calliope let her hard eyes convey her deeper implication. It wasn't the opening of the Games she was implying, it was the death that loomed like a cloud over all these District invitees. Finnick's expression stiffened, appeared less fluid than it had before.

"Yes, I suppose that could cause some strain. On some Districts more than others," there was a hint of acid in his voice, like he resented the double-edged statement coming from a resident of the Capitol's darling District.

"You might be surprised at who feels that strain," the conversation was a dance, a gentle probing ballet of words that never touched the ground.

Eyes sent the intended messages back and forth, never letting those messages reach lips to speak them. Instead, implication was their language. If Calliope had used these words on a Career Victor, they would not have exposed her treasonous feelings. Here, however, in this moment speaking to a Victor who dared to imply the Games were a curse, Calliope knew she was opening a box. Inside this box was every tension, every negative thought, every curse she had uttered in the Capitol's direction. Inside this box was her own dissension, her own private rebellion against the Games that _were_ a curse. Callie had taken out the box and let Finnick know it existed.

Calliope had made a decision early that morning while she was getting dressed. She knew she wasn't alone in District 1, there couldn't be any possibility of being alone in the Capitol. Especially not among other Districts, not among other Victors who had experienced what it was like to be plucked out of the sky and dropped into their own personal hell. Calliope knew there were the occasional whispers of a rebellion, the occasional loose thread that threatened to unravel the tapestry of the Capitol. These rumors were always stamped out quickly and decisively, nobody ever knew their origin or their end. That morning Calliope had decided to probe.

Standing with Glory and sharing that feeling of action, of necessity, she was tired of watching the holograms make a spectacle out of the impending deaths of her friends. Calliope had seen the invitation as a chance. It was a chance to prod the rumor monster and see if she could wake it up, to pull back the blanket of truth and see if it was real. What better place to start than with the Victors, those who endured the tragedy and terror of the Hunger Games and would either condemn or condone it.

Standing here in the brief moments with Finnick, Calliope felt a feeling of hopefulness. She had been right. All was not well in the Capitol among the Victors. He glanced around them briefly, making sure anyone within earshot was absorbed in conversation before he spoke again.

"If only there was a way to remove that strain," his voice was a minnow in a sea of sharks, small among the booming noise around them. It was like a bubble of silence had formed around them, the minnow swam straight into Calliope's ear and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod, "If you're a fan of the Games, you should speak with Haymitch. Tell him Finnick told you to ask about his Girl on Fire."

That was Finnick's final statement to her, he turned away and let the adoring Capitolines embrace him. He disappeared almost as suddenly as he had appeared and Calliope was alone again. She stared at her plate, suddenly freed from the bonds of hunger, and set it down behind her.

Haymitch Abernathy. Mentor to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Calliope hadn't thought to appeal to him, to involve him in this careful dance of treason and death. It made sense, the more she had considered it as she walked idly around the banquet hall and into the foyer. District 12 had been the poorest District, the one with the least to lose if a Second Rebellion were to take place. They were the ones who had the most to gain if the Capitol were overthrown, the Hunger Games disbanded. Haymitch's victory in the 50th Hunger Games had been the subject of quiet gossip, quiet judgment and scorn. District 1 should have been victorious, but Haymitch had exploited a weakness in the Arena itself that allowed him to win. Rumor had run wild through District 1 that the Capitol had exacted revenge on Haymitch for showing there was a flaw in the system, an exploitable weakness. No one had said what the revenge was, but it had been implied.

Calliope wasn't alive for these Games or his victory, but something like that doesn't just disappear because it stops being broadcast. During the highlights the Capitol likes to play, they never play the victory from District 12. It is the only District that is left out, despite its only Victor. When she asked about it, Ava had told Calliope it was to quash their hope as completely as possible. Haymitch had cheated and cost District 1 the Victory spot for that year, he had to be punished, his people had to be punished.

That had been that, Calliope had never asked again. It should have been obvious that she was seeking out the wrong Victors, she should have sought out the Victor who had the least to lose.

Callie stood in the foyer and surveyed the bright heads and elaborately designed costumes. She had seen Haymitch only twice before during the broadcasts, but she was determined to recognize him if she saw him. Finally, her eyes settled on a disheveled man leaning weakly against the bar. Everyone had talked about Haymitch the alcoholic, Haymitch the self-medicated mentor.

_Who could blame him,_ Calliope thought, letting herself watch him for a few moments longer. Finally, she strode carefully, parting the crowd around her and made her way to the bar. She realized she had been carrying an empty champagne glass since speaking with Finnick, but Callie beamed at the easy-in at the bar.

Callie set the glass on the ornately carved wood of the bar top and lifted her fingers to catch the server's attention. She turned her eyes back to Haymitch and tried not to stare. He was greasy and rumpled, he looked out of place among the well-kept and decorative Capitolines. Calliope let herself slide onto the bar stool, crossing her legs delicately and leaning on the top while she waited for her drink.

Haymitch was watching her from under the misty haze of booze in his eyes, aware of her deliberate posture and position, "Can I help you?"

"You're the mentor to the District 12 Tributes, yes?" They both knew to ask was to be polite, she knew who he was.

"At your service," he raised the glass of amber liquid, "What do you want to know, princess."

She ignored her resentment of the term, "Finnick told me to come find you. I was particularly impressed with your Girl on Fire."

It was like Calliope had said a magic word. Haymitch's eyes were suddenly filled with alertness, his posture went rigid and she realized he was actually quite tall when he stood straight. Calliope kept her eyes fixed on his and lifted her glass to him politely. Long silence passed between them before Haymitch replied.

"What is it exactly that you think you know," he didn't have to keep himself quiet, everyone considered Haymitch a raging drunk. Nobody took him seriously anyway, what he said would be ignored or dismissed.

Calliope kept her voice low, "Up until you asked me, I thought I didn't know anything." She smirked at him and watched Haymitch's expression change from offense to amusement. Callie wasn't an idiot, she had learned how to play this cat-and-mouse game too well in District 1's Academy.

"You," he wiggled a finger at her, "are a crafty young woman," Haymitch finished his drink and moved to stand closer to her, "My Girl on Fire is becoming quite a celebrity. It seems she's catching all kinds of attention because she volunteered, almost like she was defying the Capitol when she raised her hand."

Callie nodded gently and stared into her glass, "It's treasonous to defy the Capitol like that, but it seems to be going over incredibly well in the one place it should be terrifying. Why do you suppose that is?"

"They like the drama of it, they think they're untouchable," Haymitch lowered his voice and watched her carefully, "Do you think they're untouchable?"

"I think nobody is untouchable," Calliope was close enough that she could whisper now.

Haymitch drained his glass and gestured for another one, watching her curiously now, "You're District 1, aren't you."

"Yes, but I don't see why that's relevant to this discussion," Calliope frowned, she didn't understand why he was changing the subject.

"Can you explain to me why a pretty little District 1 princess like you is sitting at a bar talking to a District 12 drunk about things she shouldn't be talking about? You're a child asking me to talk to you about things an adult would be terrified to talk about," his voice stayed low, but it was harsh and his breath was sour with alcohol.

Callie finished her glass and demanded another one, "I'm an old soul, let's just stick with that story. What is it I'm asking about, Haymitch?"

"Nothing," his tone grew harsh again and he stood up straight, "I don't trust anyone from a District that is hand-fed by the guys I happen to hate. No offense, princess, but you aren't high on my list of people to talk business with. Come back when you're older and not a lapdog."

Calliope's face turned overcast, shadowy and angry, "A lapdog?"

Haymitch smiled sarcastically at her, "A lapdog."

"Two of the people I love most in the whole world are sitting in a training room somewhere below this metropolis nightmare waiting to achieve a deluded life-long dream to slaughter unprepared children dumped in an Arena so pompous assholes can wine and dine and cheer when the bloodshed starts," it was difficult to keep her voice down, but Calliope relished the chance to let her scorn and hatred pour forth from her mouth like a torrential river in a storm. Animals scattered in the fields, mountains boomed with the intensity of it, dark clouds broke open and unleashed fury upon the land, "I am not a child, Haymitch Abernathy."

He looked stunned for a moment, a chuckle shook his shoulders and he raised his glass to her, "No, apparently you're not," Haymitch laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and walked away slowly, "I'm sure I'll see you again, princess."

"Calliope Lightwood," she called after him, "Callie."

Haymitch didn't respond, he gave a short two-fingered wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. Callie sighed and stayed sitting on her bar stool, watching where the crowd had absorbed Haymitch for a long while. She spun the champagne glass under her fingers on the wood, watching the party mill about her. She didn't feel as alone as she had when she first walked in, something was going on. Something was happening in the grains of Panem's woodwork and she had a distinct feeling she was on the cusp of finding out what it was.

A familiar bulk stepped out of the crowd in front of Calliope. Glory in a crisp black suit, hair tastefully and intentionally messy with a stripe of bright blue intentionally dyed through it. He was walking with a purpose, heading straight for her. Nothing about his expression was smiling, nothing about his posture seemed jovial. Callie's smile faded and she opened her blue eyes wider as he bee lined for her.

Glory's hand was hard on her elbow and he pushed her to her feet, walking briskly and quietly.

"Glory, what are you doing?" she scrambled to keep up with him and finally found a place to plant her feet, Calliope pulled back, "Glory what are you doing?!"

The immense man pulled her close to him and leaned down so he could whisper low to her, "Your conversations with friends are being overheard. It would be best if you stopped having them"

She scowled up at him defiantly, "And that's a reason to drag me off into the night."

"I wasn't dragging you off into the night, I was dragging you away from the bartender whose pin is also a camera so I could tell you," Glory's eyebrows were knit together with worry, something Callie didn't notice when he made his line for her, "These things are a haven for gossip and rumors, President Snow is known for his interest in what exactly this gossip it. Asking questions about who hates the Hunger Games is bound to raise eyebrows."

"How did you-"

"My father and I were in his study with him when your name popped up for mentioning District 12. Talking to Haymitch is a risk, it's too much of a risk for me to permit you to take," Glory looked up over her head and back down at Callie.

"Permit me to take?" Calliope opened her mouth to fight back but he held up a hand to silence her.

"Please trust me, I'm on your side. I just think your ability to be tactful has its limits and these are them," Glory's tone softened and his expression became kind, "I have to head back to the District with my father, we can take you to the train. I think it's best if you leave the party."

Calliope's eyes searched his for some indication of what had gone in in President Snow's study. Suddenly, her heart felt cold. It had been fun meandering around the party, fun having verbal ballets with questionable characters, fun to play a tear in the fabric. Now the reality of what Calliope was saying had set in, the possibility of being labeled a traitor was real. Callie was on someone's radar, not as a threat, but she was on someone's radar she didn't want to be on.

"Okay," her voice felt small in her throat, she was embarrassed. Calliope kicked herself internally from being so stupid as to think she could trust anybody, could talk about this kind of thing at a Capitol party with people who were probably loyal to it. The Capitol had treated the Victors well, shown them riches and appreciation, adoration in some cases. Why had she been so stupid as to think they could be trusted.

Glory sat beside her on the bullet train, letting Callie gaze out the window and be lost in thought. He touched her arm reassuringly, "You look lovely. Taking your hair down was a good choice."

His compliment pulled her out of her own mind and Callie looked up at him with an appreciative smile, "Thank you. I like your streak."

"I look like a punchline to a bad joke," he smiled with amusement, "It will be okay."

The reassurance was abrupt, but Callie felt herself overwhelmed by it. Someone had her back, in some way, in some capacity. Glory was her shadow, he was sitting at her right hand, though she couldn't imagine why. The connection they had formed was becoming real all of a sudden, was manifesting into something terrifying and huge. She found herself taking his hand twice as large as hers and squeezing it. Glory squeezed back and followed her stare out the window.

These were dangerous times. Tomorrow, it became even more dangerous for some over others.


	4. Let The Games Begin

**A/N:**Let the games begin. Now I have my setup done and I can start intensifying things. Don't worry, I promised more of our favorite characters. I wanted to do a parallel timeline thing to try and expand what was happening in the other Districts, but now that my setup is pretty much ready I can start dropping characters into the mix and hopefully expand some of the other Victors and Capitol Rebels' life stories. Everyone knows 12 gets firebombed, 2 gets taken over, and 1 joins the rebellion. The things I think are interesting to see is HOW. What happened outside the propos Katniss was shooting, what happened outside the Arena and the Hunger Games that caused Districts loyal to the Capitol to turn so fast, and the part I hope to cover in this fanfic is what happened that spurred on the rebellion in District 1?

**Chapter 4: Let The Games Begin**

Calliope sat on the built-in bench affixed to her deep set window and stared out at the meadow. It seemed like she was always waking up before dawn these days, always watching those rosy arms stretch across the sky and chase away the darkness. Callie wasn't so sure that it was the dawn she liked to watch, though. She always felt a sense of sadness at the recession of the darkness, not a sense of wonder at the dawn.

Wet dew sparkled like broken glass strewn across the grass, the soft twittering of bluebirds and Jays was dampened by the window pane. The muttated Horsys grazed idly and ignored the dew. They were enhanced by the DNA of a cheetah in order to run faster, very useful on the open plains of Districts 10 and 8, but here they were just a status symbol. Fur was splotchy, all of the muttations were painted horses now, and tails were soft as silk while they flicked at nothing.

_T-minus six hours if I'm right,_ Calliope thought. The Games always began at eleven in the morning, she assumed it was no later than five right now. This was the day she had been dreading, the day that had been sitting in her gut like a bad piece of meat.

The comparison made Callie grimace, she drew her knees up and draped her soft pink satin robe over her legs. A soft knocking made her jump, despite its delicacy, "Come in."

A servingwoman with short brown hair opened the door reluctantly. The poorer inhabitants of District 1 not blessed enough to own major luxury businesses served in the houses of those who were, this was one of two domestic keepers the Lightwood family employed. She smiled politely at Calliope and placed down a tray with a steaming mug of hot coffee - a luxury, still, but Scipio was the top jeweler in the Distrtict so the money was there to splurge on things like this - and a small pot of cream and one of sugar.

Calliope watched her while she stirred the cream in with the sugar. How long had this woman worked for her family? It seemed like years, Callie couldn't remember a day without her if she tried. What was her name again?

"Cordelia," she said quietly and the woman looked up, startled, "Thank you."

The gesture of thanks seemed to make Cordelia uneasy, she offered a smile and a curious exhale of breath before turning back to the mug. She lifted it and brought it to Calliope with a slight inclination of her head, "Thank you, Miss Lightwood."

"Calliope is fine," Callie smile at her, secretly ashamed this woman was surprised by a simple thank you.

"C-Calliope," Cordelia corrected herself and bent to lift the tray off the corner of the vanity table, closing the door behind herself.

Callie watched the door for a while after she left and sipped the piping hot beverage, she had an odd feeling of life inside her today. It was ironic, considering this was the day a hefty portion of the Tributes would lose their own. Colors seemed brighter for some reason, the fabric of her robe felt softer, the sugar in her coffee was sweeter, every subtle shift of the earth grabbed her attention today.

Calliope finished the mug and put it on the window sill, sliding off the bench and into her bathroom. She touched the mirror and pulled the holographic data pad out again. Numbers were punched in, she chose carefully from her closet, specifically in the section of clothes she had never worn.

A black, tight wrap skirt slid up to her knees like a glove. Loose black shirt was bound tightly with a silver threaded corset, she pulled slouching silver boots up to her ankles. Something in Calliope felt wild today, felt energetic and alive. She did nothing with her hair, gathered it in a wide, wild pony tail. Curls weren't her natural texture, Calliope had straight hair that was easily manipulated and held shape well. She kept her elaborate makeup simple, strokes of black liquid eyeliner and subtle gray shadows gave her a classic catlike appearance. She stared at herself in the tall, full-length mirror and inhaled deeply.

Callie's exhale was slow, she ran her eyes over her own form and found herself frowning. All her life Callie had been told to emphasize her looks, indulge in fashion, be the paragon of sex appeal. She had been taught more ways to do her hair and makeup on her own than she had been taught species of animals. The idea seemed frivolous, useless, but Calliope never really thought about it until this moment.

She turned sharply and walked out of the bathroom and downstairs, meeting Ava and Scipio for breakfast. Scipio was dressed sharply in an olive green suit, a scarf of maroon paisley jutted out from his collar. The color complimented his salt-and-pepper hair and pale skin. Ava was still in a classical looking mint green night dress, appropriate for the table.

Ava clapped a little when she say her daughter, "Oh, Calliope! You look lovely, very appropriate for today. Such a solemn, important day for all of us."

Calliope's mood shifted from alive to blank with her words. In her mind, Calliope was dressed for a funeral, not a solemn event, "Thank you," she forced through her teeth.

She took her place and looked up at Cordelia when the woman placed a bowl of fresh fruit in front of her. Cordelia offered Calliope a smile she had never offered before and it was returned with a beam of sunshine, "Thank you."

Scipio watched her, mouth paused mid-chew. His eyes narrowed at her for a moment and he looked back down at his toast and sausages, "You don't need to thank the domestic help."

"It doesn't mean I don't want to," Callie's voice was cool and she used the slender silver fork to spear some bright lavender melon that disappeared into her mouth.

"Why would you thank someone for doing their job?" Scipio laughed between bites and didn't look at her again, but she was definitely staring at him.

Cordelia stood in the corner of the room shifting uncomfortably, she found herself looking to Calliope for some reason. The young woman was magnetic in her own right, she had a sort of command around her that was uncommon nowadays. Calliope didn't demand attention or loyalty, but it seemed to gravitate towards her naturally like the Moon to the Earth. Whether it wanted to or not, the Moon was set rotating around the Earth just like people around Calliope were rotating around her.

"Do people thank you when you do yours?" Calliope fired back, her tone harsher than she meant it. It seemed a silly thing to fight about, a simple thank you, but Scipio was the one driving the argument. If he wanted a fight, he would get one.

This had been their dynamic since Calliope was old enough to argue with him. Her father had died when she was too young to remember, it pained Ava to recount to her how so Callie stopped asking. Scipio had come into District 1 a long time ago, he was a Capitoline, but he wanted something more rural. It wasn't clear why Scipio had decided to move out into one of the Districts as a Capitoline, but he had. Ava had been and still was the top hair stylist in District 1 and when Scipio had met her, she was widely considered one of the most attractive women in the District.

Scipio was to the point, but he liked whatever point that was to be of his own machination. Calliope had inherited her stubborn drive from her father, she must have, because she was unwilling to compromise her own beliefs to placate Scipio's. This had been a point of contention for them her entire life, caused them to lock horns since she was old enough to form her own opinions. Ava usually interjected and got stuck in the middle, but lately she had taken to changing the subject loudly and clearly.

"We only have a few hours left, this is such an exciting day. Calliope, are you watching at home with us, or are your friends having a little party?" there it was, Ava's knack for misdirecting Scipio's frustration was impeccable.

Calliope looked at her mother and let a broad smile flood her face, "I was just going to message Glory and see what his plans were, actually, if you don't mind," she gestured to her bowl to indicate she was done and pushed her chair back before Ava could respond.

Cordelia stepped in to take her bowl, but Calliope handed it to her instead. The women locked eyes for a moment and something passed between them, Cordelia's gratitude was all over her eyes if it couldn't be on her lips. Calliope offered her the same kind smile she had given her that morning.

Without a word of acknowledgement from her stepfather, Calliope disappeared to the alcove that held the communicator terminal. They were all over the wealthier Districts, like holographic video phones. She lifted her hand and tapped a sequence of numbers into the dial pad that surfaced in front of her, the contact coordinates for the Fidentis Estate. Glory's family was wealthy, too, his father was a very successful Furrier and had a marvelous relationship with most of the outer Districts. Onyx Fidentis worked with a person's budget, it made him popular in the poorer areas of Panem. This kind of arrangement also brought him more business than he could handle, Glory mostly apprenticed with his father out of necessity.

The screen swirled with a loading indicator, dialing out to the Fidentis home. Finally, Glory's face appeared on the screen. His hair was messy and he was still in his room when he answered, the blue streak that took up half his choppy bangs was still there.

"I thought that was supposed to be temporary," Calliope quirked an eyebrow at him curiously, leaning in as though she could make out the ultimate cause of the discoloration in his hair.

"Yeah," he said groggily as he ran a palm over his face, "Somebody screwed something up somewhere, I guess. Are you okay, Callie?"

Glory must have been exhausted, he called her by her nickname, "If I don't get out of this house, they're going to make me watch."

Glory's attention seemed to soak into his own skin like a sponge, he frowned, "Oh."

Calliope's face betrayed her plea to him, her fear at being forced to sit in the same room as her parents and watch her boyfriend and best friend slaughter children. It was no secret how old most of the District Tributes were. Rue, the little 12 year old, the little District 9 14 year old. These were children. Calliope couldn't bring herself to condone watching her own friends slit the throats of babies.

Glory nodded slowly, "Of course. My family will be watching, too," his expression was sympathetic, "But if I invite enough people to come and watch with us, I don't think you would be noticed."

It was an implication, not an expression. To not watch the Hunger Games, no matter your District, was dancing on the line of treason. The outer Districts had to sit in classrooms in what passed for schools and watch every torturous second of the Games, the Districts with more freedom simply watched of their own volition. Calliope felt her eyes burn and tears threaten to stir up, but she pushed them back down deep inside herself. All she managed was a nod, Glory ended the session.

It wasn't even an hour later when she showed up at his doorstep, his father let her in before she even finished walking down the path. Onyx was a large, jovial man, friendly and happy. He was a well-loved man with a good natured smile and a body-shaking laughed that was as infectious as his son's.

"Calliope! Little constellation, it's so wonderful to see you again," Onyx wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her into his girth, her wide smile didn't need to be faked, "I'm so glad you decided to come and watch. It surprised me that Glory would want to have a party for the Games. My son has never been one for parties."

Calliope walked slowly inside, boots clicking on the black marble floors of the huge, classic looking estate house. Glory's mother Etienne paused in the doorway, a bigger women in a fitted taffeta gown, and waved enthusiastically at her.

Both of Glory's parents had a happy-go-lucky nature about them, they kept a positive spin on everything. But there was one moment where Calliope remembered a rip in their otherwise positive nature. On Qualifying Day, Glory had been the first fighter, the one who made it four rounds. Calliope had averted her gaze at one point, remembering what all of those festivities had been dedicated to. When she had turned her head, Callie had seen the Fidentis family. Onyx's face was ashen and stiff, his usually smiling mouth was trapped in a solid line. Etienne looked paler than she naturally should have, a fat tear traced a single line down her cheek. Everything about them in that moment was tight and terrified. When Glory had been taken down by Marvel, Callie had glanced at the in her peripheral vision again

Relief. That was what she had seen, relief and joy in their faces. Neither of them dared to show it or express it, but anyone who watched them carefully would have seen it. Callie hadn't looked long enough to see guilt, but if she had it would have been evident.

Glory squeezed his mother's shoulder and maneuvered his way around her, a quiet smile had broken on his face and he looked Calliope up and down. Glory let out a low whistle, "You look ready for a party."

He was being polite, she let him embrace her tightly. Calliope pulled back and lifted her hand to the fringe of blue in his hair, inspecting it, "This should have come out by now."

Onyx let out a single booming laugh, "It would, too, if his hair stylist hadn't used a gene dye."

Glory's tan cheeks turned red and he scowled at his father. Genetic dyes changed things like hair, skin, eyes permanently. It was an easy mistake to make, but nothing existed yet to rectify the mistake. The brown they could use wouldn't look quite right and he would have two-tone hair forever.

Calliope let her lips curl up in an amused smile, "Now you're always ready for Capitol parties."

"Yes, I know, it's hysterical," Glory's voice hit a sour note of offense. The loss of his natural color and the permanent stripe of blue was obviously still a raw wound for him.

The screen by the door popped up again and Tithe walked languidly down the walkway to the door. It opened on its own and he gave a quick wave to Glory's parents, "And hello to you, too, Miss District 1."

It was a commentary on the beauty competition the stylists had every year, Callie resented it a little, "Tithe."

The three of them walked downstairs into a furnished basement. It was huge, a full glass screen took up an entire wall and a full mahogany bar was stocked to the brim in the corner. Classmates from the Academy milled around and greeted her, some seemed surprised and others weren't entirely sure she had spent five years at the Academy with them. It happened, people left the Academy and moved on, but Calliope hadn't expected them to move on in two weeks.

A large L-shaped sofa took up most of the room, it was filled with former classmates who were all eagerly watching the CPN tour of the Arena. Caesar Flickerman's voice prattled on excitedly about the challenges a forest Arena would give the Tributes this year. Training videos and interview highlights took up most of the next hour.

Finally, the music on the television grew low and serious, the screen split into three camera views and all the pedestals were accounted for. The Cornucopia sat in the center of the pedestals and a clock ticked down the final minute. Everything in the room seemed to stop around this moment.

Glory held a glass in one hand, his eyes fixed on the screen. Calliope didn't so much as let her skin bristle, she didn't realize she had stopped breathing. Even Tithe seemed to become completely still.

9…

8…

7…

6…

Calliope finally inhaled, taking short breaths so quiet she couldn't hear herself. That could have been it, or the issue was the sound of blood in her ears rushing into her heart and being pumped back out over and over again.

3…

2…

1…

Time moved slowly. Nothing on the screen looked real. Nobody spoke, nobody cheered, nobody seemed to so much as blink in the first few moments of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

It was horrifying.

The camera caught the first kill and played it in slow motion, the boy from District 2 used a small knife he had picked and hurled it into another Tribute's chest. Suddenly, the images seemed to move in fast forward. Screaming, so much screaming, blood sprayed everywhere.

Calliope's eyes searched the screen frantically for a familiar face. Marvel, Glimmer, Katniss, anyone she recognized from the interviews. It was a cacophony of torment and fear, of screams and shouts she eventually realized were coming from the other Academy students. Calliope's ears perked up and she realized nobody had been silent at all for the last few minutes, everybody had been shouting and calling encouragements for District 1.

She looked around, frantic and horrified at her own District classmates. Finally, her eyes stopped on a brief recap of one of the kills. Marvel held a boy by the shoulders and raked a knife across his throat. Blood poured out of him, soaking his chest, he sank to the ground. The body of the boy twitched a few times before life finally ebbed out of him. Marvel's face was speckled with the scarlet blood, his smile vicious and wide.

In the interview, in her memories, Calliope had always seen that smile as kind and thoughtful. Not always intelligent, but meaning the best. In the Arena it was paralysing. She was watching someone so removed from the Marvel she knew that it hardly seemed real.

The basement room vibrated with the whoops and hollers of the Academy classmates she had once considered her friends. Calliope felt like she was going to throw up. She turned and hurried to the bathroom, throwing herself down onto the marble tiled floor. Her whole body heaved as she vomited, sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest ripped with each violent squeeze of her stomach. Acid and bile filled her mouth, tore at her throat.

Calliope felt a hand on her back stroking her gently, another pulled her bangs out of her face. She gasped when she was done, staring into the basin before it swirled away the sickening green and yellow colors into the septic tank. A thin hand passed her a towelette and a glass of minty water to swish with. Calliope accepted both and cleaned herself up. She turned, anticipating Glory to be crouched next to her and was surprised when she looked up into Tithe's face.

His expression wasn't one of disgust or disapproval, he was filled with pity for her. Tithe, held her arm while she got up shakily and she offered him a weak smile, "It's horrible."

His voice was quiet, if it hadn't been for the tiled bathroom, Callie never would have heard it. She couldn't speak, just nodded.

Tithe led her back out into the room and spoke loudly, "I told you not to worry, the knife missed him by a mile. If you had stayed long enough, you would have seen it! Marvel is alive and well, Glimmer is a tornado of terror." He was covering for her, changing Callie's disgust into a worried girlfriend image.

Ears that had seemed to prick up as she ran for the bathroom turned away, bored, and Calliope looked up at the lithe, willowy man holding her up. Her eyes scanned his face for a while. Most of the Academy Graduates would be filled with scorn for her, with disapproval at her weakness and inability to handle a little death. It wasn't the death that bothered her, it was what the people Callie had known her whole life had turned into in just two was what the Hunger Games did, it tormented people by breaking down everyone you knew and destroying them systematically before your eyes.

Calliope leaned against the bar and stared blankly at the screen, nothing seemed to be registering for a moment. She watched the list of casualties scroll by under a picture of the Tributes. She watched carefully and only let herself relax when neither District 12 Tributes' images came up.

"Wow, 12 made it through the first thirty seconds this time. It really is a miracle year for them," someone cracked to a room that filled with chuckles.

District 1's CPN system followed their Tributes until a death occurred, then they would get footage of what happened and the five minute window after. One year, a Tribute had gone insane and resorted to cannibalism. It had been horrifying, apparently, but the Capitolines loved the drama and gore of it all. So CPN had started making the Districters watch the five minutes of grief and insanity that came with each kill. It was just one more means of torture they used on the outer Districts, but for Districts 1, 2, and 4 it was five more minutes of glory.

Marvel and Glimmer had teamed up with a few District 2 members, Cato and Clove their names were. There was a boy from District 4 and the blonde District 12 Tribute. Calliope tilted her head when she saw Peeta Mellark as part of the Career Alliance.

_What is he doing?_ she thought. The conversation she was listening to on CPN seemed to clear all of that up, _He's selling out the girl he's in love with?_

Calliope felt herself become enraged, felt her hatred bubble over and steam inside her. It was a bitter reminder of what became important in the Arena. _I guess love doesn't conquer all_, she thought bitterly.

She wanted to leave, but didn't want to go home. Callie wanted to be anywhere but in front of a screen watching this debasement of human nature, this exploitation of need to survive. There wasn't anywhere else she could go, though. Scipio and Ava would be home watching the Games enthusiastically, Marvel was walking around with Glimmer hunting down kids. Tithe was standing quietly next to her, his eyes watching the screen in a calculating manner.

Tithe had tried to talk to her about the Games a week ago, he had seemed genuinely interested and concerned with the progress of his teammates. His expression now seemed to imply he had only meant it as very well rehearsed conversation. Calliope hadn't realized how many people around her held such a bitter disdain for the Games, the level of discord extended beyond herself. It wasn't something she has expected from her formerly enthusiastic classmates.

Tithe glanced down at her and caught her eyes, "Hopefully it ends soon."

One of her former classmates looked over at him and snorted a laugh through his nose, "Of course it will be, Glimmer is like something out of their nightmares in there. If she doesn't come home the Victor I will personally clean the floors of everyone in here."

The chubby boy had missed the point, but Calliope hadn't, "Me, too."

These were dangerous words passing between two candidates for Reaping. With the elaborate Volunteer system, it was unlikely the 18-year-old crowd ever got tapped for participation. Graduation happened at 17 and apprenticeship started at 18, that was the way it had always been. Special students who showed exceptional skill could put their name in early, so could apprentices who had a particular desire to participate in the Games. For the most part, those 18-year-old students went back into the Academy as Instructors which left the selection pool almost exclusively in the 17-year-old class. This created a sort of camaraderie between the Graduates and the Tributes during the games, one the Graduates didn't realize was one sided.

Calliope wasn't watching the screen anymore, she was watching the students around her and feeding on their excitement and pride. She had always considered herself a friendly, polite person. Since Reaping Day, Callie had felt herself being pulled in six different directions. One part of her wanted to immerse herself in this pride, ignore the Hunger Games, and live her life unsullied by a bad relationship with the Capitol. Another wanted her to see the Hunger Games as effective, be proud of her District, return as an Instructor to show other children how to kill each other. There was one part that pushed her to renounce the Games, try to find a balance.

The last part of her was the most deadly, likely to kill her if anyone knew how powerful that smallest part's voice was inside Callie's head. The last part of her told her to fight back, openly renounce the Hunger Games, leave the District. Calliope knew there had to be others out there. Threads of rebellion were poking out in District 1 in the guise of parents who didn't cheer when their son did well during Qualifying Day, a Furrier's son who openly questioned the purpose of the Hunger Games, a willowy man who kept her secret fear a secret. If this existed in District 1, it existed elsewhere.

_If I listen to that voice, I become a traitor. If anyone knows I listened to that voice, I become an Avox_, she shuddered at the thought of having her tongue cut out, being subdued and forced to serve the Capitol she was growing to hate. It was like moss inside Calliope's heart, but the hatred was growing. The party the other night had been icing on a very ugly cake that reminded her what exactly it was she had started to hate.

Upstairs, Onyx Fidentis sat in his study, watching the feed from the basement downstairs. He tapped his thick fingers on his desk and kept his eyes fixed to Calliope, Tithe, and Glory. The three of them stood together around the bar, Tithe next to Calliope and Glory leaning over the bar. All three of them were watching the screen solemnly, none of them excited or encouraging.

Onyx pulled up a window to compose a message, he lifted his hands and a keyboard seemed to pull itself out of the wood and float under his fingers. He composed a quick message, the recipient's message code was deeply encrypted. In fact, the entire system Onyx was using to send the message had been created to be isolated from the main CapitolNet system.

_We have a glitch. Three, to be exact. _

That was all Onyx said before he hit send. He turned his chair and looked out the window, whether he wanted it or not an image of the Games took up a third of the digital glass Onyx was looking through. He let his eyes linger on the dark haired girl from District 12 and sighed slowly.

_Either you condemn yourself, or I condemn you,_ he thought, lifting his hands to his lips and exhaling slowly. Onyx closed his eyes and rubbed them, he felt Etienne's hand on his shoulder. She was looking down at the feed from the basement room and chewing her lower lip.

"We do what we have to do," she said softly.

And what they had to do would change everything for Calliope Lightwood, Glory Fidentis, and Tithe Lord in a matter of days.


	5. Let There Be Bread

**A/N:**I spent a few days figuring out where the plot should go. I decided the characters we all know and love will be farther down the line, I'd like to take some time to develop my own. After all, the whole point of Butterfly is to talk about what was going on outside The Hunger Games. I plan on changing one death later down the line, the same one everyone else changes. I also plan on uniting these characters with the canon characters in a few chapters, but it'll be a little bit. Lend me your trust! I promise it'll be ok.

**Chapter 5: Let There Be Bread**

_"You can only chase a butterfly for so long." - Jane Yolen_

Calliope watched the glass screen in front of her, ignoring the fact that it was well after dark. She hadn't been able to sleep for three days. Cat naps here and there, but nothing that constituted full-blown sleep. Glory had come to sit with her in silence, Tithe had come with him and tried to joke. Callie couldn't focus on anything but the cameras following Glimmer and Marvel. They were hunting Katniss Everdeen down like a dog, but the District 12 anomaly wasn't like the other Tributes that had been slaughtered in the wake of the Careers.

Katniss Everdeen was evading them. She wasn't just evading them, she was outsmarting them, outmaneuvering them. Peeta Mellark had long since made Calliope Lightwood's shit list, she decided the moment he told them he was helping them find her that he was a dead man in her own mind.

The thing Calliope couldn't stop focusing on, the thing that kept her watching the 74th Annual Hunger Games was the transformation of the Volunteers from District 1. Callie couldn't call them her friends anymore, she didn't see them as the people she knew any longer.

Her door creaked open and she lifted her chin from her knees and looked up, Glory stood in her doorway. He entered quietly enough and shut the door, moving to sit on the floor beside Calliope. He didn't say anything, just followed her gaze to the screen.

This had been the dynamic between them for the last three days, Glory would come over at strange hours - he also worked strange hours - and he would sit quietly with Calliope while she watched. Tithe would come with him sometimes, always trying to divert her attention and change the subject. Callie hadn't said much more than a few sentences about the Games since she had gone home after Glory's party. Finally, she started to speak

.

"Even if they come home, I won't know them anymore," her voice was soft.

Glory nodded. His presence had been one of comfort, he had come to sit with her as a show of solidarity. Calliope wasn't sure why Glory was coming to sit with her, why he was as grave as he was, why he cared so much when he wasn't even affected about the people in the Games. It never occurred to her that Glory was looking to her for what the next step was. He had been looking to her for what to do, how to react, what was okay to do and say about the Games.

Calliope was better at talking and taking action than he was, Glory was better at following orders than giving them. He was the most genuine person Calliope had ever met, he was a good man in a storm.

"You're right," Glory's bluntness hadn't faded, he was a consistent man if nothing else.

She slumped to the side and rested her head on his shoulder. Glory didn't stiffen or move, it wasn't a gesture of affection so he didn't treat it like that. A muscular arm took up her shoulders and squeezed, Calliope sighed heavily. The two of them watched though the night portion of the Hunger Games was always boring, but it helped to keep an eye on everyone Callie knew.

Sometimes it was that eye that demolished her faith in them. Watching people you care about shove a dagger through the neck of a helpless child from an impoverished District was hardly doing anything for her mentally, but knowing they were alive kept the flame of hope alive with them. If people could change one direction, they could change the other way...right?

Morning hit both of them like a particularly unfriendly sack of bricks. Calliope jerked herself awake without realizing she had slept. Glory's head was lolled back against her bed and he snored loudly. She sat up and furiously rubbed sleep from her eyes.

_How stupid could I be, how could I fall asleep on her?_ Calliope wasn't sure if she meant Glimmer or Katniss anymore, her allegiance to her District 1 classmates had been irrevocably tainted by watching them corner and kill a sixteen year old from District 8.

Glorly's snoring became erratic and he lifted his head up quickly, blinking hard at the screen, "What happened?" he grumbled.

"We fell asleep," Calliope croaked, "One death, not us." Glory blushed, his initial interpretation of 'us' hadn't initially been Glimmer and Marvel.

Glory felt himself fill with frustration again. Any time they had sat and watched the Games, he had kept this frustration at bay for Calliope's sake, but in his morning grogginess he couldn't pretend with himself anymore, "Don't say death so casually."

Calliope looked over at him. Well, _up_ at him. Glory was a tall man, over six feet, and sitting didn't exactly make him any shorter, "I'm sorry." Her voice was small.

Glory inhaled and ran a hand through his brown-and-blue hair, he knew he was tired and cranky from sleeping on the floor and taking it out on what happened to be one of his only two friends. He sighed and looked apologetically over her, "No, no. I'm just being grouchy."

"My stepfather will kill you if he knows you're here," Calliope wasn't being forceful or threatening, she was just stating a fact.

Glory sighed again and looked around the room, gesticulating coolly, "I can hop out your window."

Calliope found herself smiling at him and she started to shake with laughter. She couldn't help herself, the image of Glory sneaking out her window was hysterical and she couldn't stop herself. Glory started to chuckle along with her, light and short at first and then evolving into deep, throaty laughter. Together, the two of them didn't care if Ava and Scipio walked in or if the whole house woke up. They collapsed on each other, bodies shaking with deep full-body laughter. Glory wrapped himself around her while he tried to wipe tears from his eyes, Calliope clutched her stomach against the cramping sensation she felt and tried to use her other arm to coil around him.

Callie pulled away from him after she gained her composure, eventually looking up into his concerned face, "I can't do this," she whispered harshly, "I can't sit around anymore and just let this happen."

"Callie-" he began futilely, but Glory knew this conversation had been coming. It was always just on the horizon of their strange friendship.

"No, I don't care if my parents hear or who knows. I can't do this, I can't be a part of this. I won't be part of a society that kills children for sport," Callie's cold, frosty blue eyes were fixed on his. Something behind them screamed determination, screamed rebellion.

Glory couldn't hide his shuddering at the thought of it, but he nodded, "Okay." was all he offered her. The truth of it was that he agreed with her, had the same grave feeling that rebellion might be the only answer.

Callie was drawn back to the screen and her voice edged barely above a whisper, "Something's happening."

The screen focused on Katniss Everdeen, trapped in a tree while the pack of Career Tributes had tried to smoke her out. Since Districts 1 and 12 were on the same grid square, the cameras shared perspectives. Glimmer was dozing on the ground in the grayish dawn, the District 2 Career they said was Cato snored lightly. Katniss was awake, though, and she was staring up into the branches and moving around.

Calliope got to her feet and walked closer as thought she could see what was happening if she tilted her head enough, "What is she doing?" her voice was a whisper.

Glory was beside her without her noticing it, his hand snatched her wrist, "There," he pointed on the screen.

The dark-skinned little girl named Rue was gesturing to what looked like a cancerous growth on the wood. In its own way, the growth was a cancer, just not in the way it initially appeared. Calliope's eyes grew wide and she watched Katniss sawing at the branch. The multiple perspectives showed Callie enough to know where it would land. Her heart was sitting in a basin of ice in her chest.

"No," she said softly, "_No!_" Calliope shouted.

In a way, when the tracker jacker nest fell, Calliope was relieved. Katniss could get down from the tree despite being stung, the District 12 girl could get away. At the same time, Glimmer's fate was sealed. She wouldn't be coming home.

Calliope let out a strangled cry and watched as her best friend succumbed to the venomous stings of the tracker jackers. She dashed towards the screen as though if she reached it, Callie could revive Glimmer. It was over before she knew it, over before Glimmer knew it either. Glory's arm was strong around her waist, his awkward sideways hug a single pulse of comfort. Callie's eyes didn't water, she didn't sit down at cry, she didn't even feel robbed. The Glimmer who had died in the Arena wasn't the Glimmer she had hugged goodbye to at the train station.

It was almost a relief when Katniss pulled the tracker jacker stunt, but Callie refused to let that thought bubble up to the surface and become real. She left it only a mist of a thought, steam rising off a lake that disappeared as quickly as it had risen.

Instead Calliope felt herself go limp. She relaxed in Glory's arms and let him lead her back to sit on the synthetic oak chest at the foot of her bed. He gripped her shoulders and stared fiercely into her eyes, "Callie, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she muttered, watching the screen. It had exploded into chaos, Katniss was running awkwardly, she had collected the bow Glimmer had taken, Peeta was shouting at her to run. Finally, the camera followed Katniss' collapse. After that, the screen returned to following Marvel. He was slapping wildly at his jacket and checking his body for stingers. Satisfied, he knelt and collected his spear, checking the petite District 2 girl, Clove.

The two of them - Glory and Calliope - sat there for a long time, watching the screen. Cato had been stung, so they were making their way back to the elaborate camp they had established with the explosives and all of the Cornucopia supplies. Calliope decided watching them wasn't interesting anymore. She got to her feet.

"I'm going to take a shower, probably head into town and walk around," Calliope's hands were balled into angry fists. Glory didn't say a word. He gave her a tight hug, opened her window, and heaved himself outside without responding.

Calliope stood for too long under the cascade of scalding water, resting her head against the tiles in exhaustion. Finally, she sank down under the torrential rain of the spigot and curled herself into a ball. Callie didn't know how long she was crying for, but eventually she got herself together and turned the water off.

When she got out, the keypad chased her fingertips. It felt appropriate to be in mourning, so she tugged on a pair of black dyed pants and buttoned up some black sleeveless shirt that cut lower than was necessary. Calliope stared at herself in the mirror long and hard. She lifted her hands up and wove a French braid into the right side of her hair, small and only one thin braid, but stylish enough when she added a single black feather. She gathered all of it up in a wild, half-damp pony tail. It would be wavy and her bangs would look more like a waterfall than hair, but it suited Calliope's mood. Black seemed to be the only thing she felt like wearing lately. It wouldn't garner approval from the Capitol, but Calliope didn't really feel convicted about that part. Her hair had started to slip away from its ornate hair styles and Calliope was applying less and less makeup, she was slipping away from the District 1 girl she had known for so long and becoming something different. She pulled a pair of black utility boots on over her tight pants and walked downstairs, making a _thunk_ sound with each heavy step.

Ava was waiting for her at the bottom, her face twisted with worry, hands clasped in front of her breast, "Callie…" was all she said.

Calliope's eyes flicked up to her mother, hard as steel, "I'm fine."

Truthfully, she did feel fine. Callie spent some time thinking about the girl she originally hoped to be, happy and delicate, fragile and ornate, something to be looked at and revered. This entire Hunger Games had taken a piece of that fragile image. She wasn't weak and simpering, she was tired of crying, she was tired of feeling tortured. So today Calliope had decided to take hold of herself and seize who she wanted to be. She wanted to be strong, aware, rational, quick. That was the person she aspired to be and today, the day of Glimmer's death, Calliope decided become that person.

Callie wasn't sure when she was walking down the road, but she was. She lifted her face to the sunshine and closed her eyes slowly, drinking in the bird sounds and damp morning air. The square was buzzing with activity. Not in the way she had always known it, not in the way businesses seethed and foamed with the ebb and flow of patrons.

Calliope stepped into the square and looked around herself carefully, taking in what was going on around her. A train had hissed and stopped in the station, people seemed to be surging in the direction of the vehicle and the screams and cries of excited women rang in the air. She knitted her eyebrows together and scowled in annoyance. They had crowded around the train station waving objects wildly, chattering like chickens. The excitement seemed to rise off of them into the air and become visible.

Suddenly, she seemed to come into herself. Calliope tried not to stare or count, but she took stock of the Peacekeepers in the square.

_More than usual_. She thought, frowning, _Something's happened._

Finally, the crowd of women parted for someone and she found herself rooted into the marble tiles. Finnick O'dair walked slowly through the throng of women, face broken into a bright smile, white dress shirt rumpled and opened just enough to show off his bronze chest. He smiled cheerfully and shot a wink at someone, his hand deftly scrawling a signature on something. Finally, a trio of Peacekeepers intervened and pushed the crowd away. The women contented themselves with staring and milling about, as though they couldn't help themselves, but knew they were too good for this behavior. Finnick stood quietly in the square and looked around at the shops, he was pretending not to see her almost too obviously.

_Of course,_ Callie sighed slowly, _here for seasonal luxury shopping._

It was true, all the Victors seemed to show up in District 1 to relish in their newfound riches after the Games. It was a drug of sorts, something to distract them from the inner anguish. Calliope found her frosty blue eyes fixed on him hard, not full of adoration like the other women. A week ago she had relied on him for information, relied on his implication, relied on his distaste for the Hunger Games. The reality had felt bitter, Haymitch had in no uncertain terms told her she was crazy and by proxy so had Finnick.

Ignoring her better judgment, Calliope's path to Finnick was straight and strong. She found herself stretching out an arm to shove the Peacekeeper who tried to block her path aside. The Peacekeeper grabbed her arm and pulled Callie to him.

Every muscle in her body seemed to tense then and moved against her better judgment. She snatched the arm that grabbed her without thinking and pinned her back against his. With one hard tug, Calliope rolled him over her body and pinned his neck to the ground under her knee. Two clicking sounds and she knew she would be looking up into the barrels of two white pistols.

It was training from the Academy. In her emotional frenzy and blossoming internal rebellion, Calliope had forgotten Peacekeepers were untouchable. What she had committed was a serious offense. Deep down, she didn't care. It felt good, like a slice of her growing rebellious nature had exposed itself to the world. Calliope knew better than to let it show for long, though.

Finnick pushed past the Peacekeepers and paused when he saw her at the center of the commotion. His mouth broke into a smile and he turned to face the Peacekeepers, placating arms raised, "It's okay, gentlemen. She's a friend, she's fine."

Calliope's eyes burned with annoyance when she stared down at the Peacekeeper pinned under her knee. She let him sit there and struggle for breath a little too long before releasing him. The man scrambled to his feet and struggled to point his pistol at her. Callie's expression didn't change, defiance radiated from her so strongly she glowed. Finnick's strong hand slapped down on her shoulder and he jerked her back to him, smiling at the Peacekeeper she had kept under her knee.

"Please, she didn't expect you to come at her. Calliope doesn't realize things are different for Victors when we go out into the Districts," his voice had an edge of pleading on it.

Calliope's hard gaze never wavered and she kept her stare fixed on the Peacekeeper. She was tired of using the skills she had spent five years cultivating at the Academy for styling hair or applying makeup. She wasn't a stylist or a hairdresser, Calliope was a weapon. This cold realization had hit her when the Games began, it was what had been haunting her since before she could remember. Calliope wasn't like the children in the outer Districts, or even District 4. She had been plucked from her normal life and shoved into a school to be trained as a lethal weapon. The reality was a bitter pill to swallow. Children in District 4 had more normalcy in their lives than in District 1, the gem of the Capitol's crown both literally and metaphorically. Calliope needed to stop lying to herself and pretending her dexterous hands had been meant for layering locks of hair. Her hands were meant for throwing knives, for snapping necks, for knotting the rope of a pup tent.

_We have an army right under our feet and we let them do whatever they want,_ she hissed at herself. It made the fire in Calliope's eyes grow brighter, not dimmer.

Finally, the Peacekeepers exchanged looks and one of them nodded to the others. The guns were lowered and Finnick's shoulders slouched in relief, tension fled his posture. He reached out and pulled her into a careful hug, "It's been a while."

Calliope froze and tried to play along, patting him and laughing a little, "It has."

"Let's walk," Finnick's eyes flashed to the Peacekeepers and he offered her his arm.

Calliope took it and followed his lead down the path, skin bristling at the presence of Peacekeepers. Their being here meant something was wrong, this wasn't a coincidence that a popular Victor alongside a considerable Peacekeeper entourage showed up in a District. She frowned, acutely aware of the spike in security presence. This was a cover to double the patrols in the streets, something the Capitol had never done after the death of a Tribute before.

"Calm down," Finnick whispered, "Laugh like we're having a conversation, stop looking like I'm leading you to a funeral." His voice was low.

Calliope's years of media training had let her float away from her own body and smile coyly with a small laugh, "I'm sorry, this kind of thing always alarms me, the Peacekeeper presence doubling in a matter of seconds and all." She was sarcastic, annoyed.

"Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass you are?" Finnick whispered harshly.

Callie was surprised. Up until now, she didn't think she had registered with anyone's ass. Callie was a fly on a wall, a mosquito buzzing around someone's head, "Excuse me?"

Finnick's sea green eyes narrowed and looked hard into hers, "You're being watched, you idiot. Certain persons are interested in you. You need to be patient, though, or that will go away and you'll find yourself very much alone."

Calliope tried to keep up her appearance of defiance, biting hard on her lower lip. She had met Finnick O'dair once on a whim at a party and here he was pretending to Peacekeepers they were old friends.

Callie hid the twitch of a smile. Somewhere, she had registered on the right radar instead of the wrong one like Glory had thought. Somewhere, something was going to happen. She felt it in her bones that Finnick wasn't in District 1 to shop, he was looking for her.

Finnick glanced over his shoulder at the Peacekeepers again and let his voice sound languid and lazy, "I'm feeling the need to take a vacation from the hubbub of the Games, too."

"Oh?" she raised a slender, perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "Where would you go for a vacation this time of year?" Her heart raced, he was going to say something of interest to her and stop leaving Callie in the dark.

Callie was unprepared for what he said next. She had expected him to say District 12 or imply someplace beyond that, but instead, "I would go to the mountains. Just throw on a pack and head that way, towards that peak. I like the solidarity of camping, don't you?"

Finnick's tone was deliberate, his gesture towards the large mountain whose peak bloomed beyond the walled perimeter of District 1 too purposeful. Finnick was telling her something she wasn't completely aware of. His eyes were fixed on hers, willing her to receive a message she didn't fully understand. All her life, Calliope had been told the fences protected them from outside forces. There were sections of all Districts that were uninhabited, the mountain was a part of District 1 without actually being touchable. People always talked about how it had been irradiated during the Dark Days, how it was a nuclear bunker that had experienced large amounts of radiation and needed to be avoided.

"I can't say I've ever been camping up there," Callie stared back at him and she averted her eyes to the mountain, "It sounds pleasant."

Finnick didn't reply to her, only stared for a moment. He glanced behind them at their escort down the residential road and leaned in to speak to her candidly, "You should. It's very pleasant. Enlightening almost."

Calliope's voice was the hiss of steam in a pot, "What is going on."

"We don't have a lot of interaction with people from District 1," Finnick muttered under his breath, so light she thought she had misheard the rustling of trees, "You'll have to excuse me for not knowing how to talk to you."

"I'm sure I'm an anomaly," she watched him carefully and let her tone wander the line of ambiguity between sarcasm and annoyance.

"You'd be surprised," Finnick's eyes searched her's for a moment before he reeled back in a deliberate laugh. He gestured to one of the Peacekeepers and took from him a small baker's box. Finnish popped it open and there was a small roll sitting inside the box.

The roll was a pale greenish color, it smelled of salt and seaweed. Calliope wrinkled her nose and flicked her eyes from the roll to Finnick. His voice grew low and secretive, "It's from my district," his eyes flashed to the Peacekeepers and back to her, "If you go on a camping trip, it's always a good idea to bring a loaf of local bread."

Finnick's words rang in Calliope's ears for a moment. She was confused, not understanding his meaning. She held the box with the odd green roll in it and closed it, shooting him a dark look, "Yes, I'm sure."

"Really," his expression was almost pleading, "It's a good idea to go camping with local bread." One of the Peacekeepers laid a hand gently on his shoulder and Finnick feigned a startled expression, "I'm sorry, I have to get going. I have an appointment with the Fidentis Furrier Company."

He reached out and took her hand, kissing her fingers gently. Calliope's expression was puzzled and she couldn't conceal it, "Uh, okay."

The hubbub around her died down, the Peacekeepers followed Finnick, the crowd disbursed, and finally Callie was alone in the middle of a residential block holding a box of weird green bread. She stared at the roll and looked up, watching Finnick and company recede into the horizon. He glanced back at her one time, eyes flicking from the roll to her.

Calliop stared down at the green, salty bread and lifted it slowly out of the box. The secret he was trying to tell her was in this roll and she was determined to-

Calliopes's eyes widened suddenly as she turned the roll over in her hand. She saw the district image of a Mockingjay burned into the bottom of the loaf, the same Mockingjay that Katniss Everdeen had taken in with her as her token. She eyed the loaf suspiciously before suddenly shutting it up in its box again. It had been deliberate, it wasn't an accidental burn that happened to look like the pin CPN had been showcasing left and right.

Calliope clung to the box like a lifeline, like if she dropped it she would collapse dead into a heap on the ground. She felt like a zombie walking inside and upstairs to her room, her eyes fixed on the baker's box she planted on her desk. Callie sat in front of it and folded her arms on its surface, flicking it open and examining the roll again.

_The mountain,_ she thought, _and local bread. I don't get it._ She turned the load carefully over in her hand and prodded at it with a single finger. It sank into the spongy innards of the roll and contacted something small, more solid.

Calliope froze, each motion became careful and full of purpose. In her mind's eye, one small slip up would destroy whatever was inside the bread forever. She carefully peeled the roll apart and kept the Mockingjay portion intact. Inside, there was a carefully folded square of paper. She felt her heart pounding in her ears as she plucked it gingerly from its soft packaging. It had been folded shut a few times, it was tainted by the green of the bread after it had been baked, the paper was laminated in some sort of plastic material. Calliope slowly and delicately unfolded the paper in her hands.

_It's a map,_ she thought, surprised. Her eyes widened as she spread it out along her desk. It wasn't big, maybe twice the size of her petite hand, but it was a carefully laminated map of District 1 and the surrounding wilderness.

Finding the mark would have been impossible if Callie wasn't staring so intently at it. A small intentional fold almost smoothed out by the heat. It cut right through the mountain Finnick had pointed at. Calliope got to her feet and clutched the map, standing at her window. Calliope held the piece of laminated paper up and compared the map with the snowcapped peak she could see behind the wall.

_There. I have to get to that mountain,_ Calliope's face twisted into a smile full of gratefulness, optimism, relief.

At the Fidentis Furrier Company outlet in town, Finnick sat in a plush chair in the back office watching Onyx Fidentis carefully.

"Nobody knows if we should trust your judgment on this, Onyx. They're kids," Finnick said in a low voice.

Onyx shrugged and tapped the desk, "Kids, yes, but as well trained as Peacekeepers. Maybe better," he leaned forwards to get closer to the Victor, "The fact is we don't have a lot of options, not here anyway. We have to take recruits where we can get them and send them where we can, unlike your collaborators. We don't have the same connections."

"Don't have the same connections?" Finnick raised an eyebrow, "You're practically sitting in the laps of our connections. Nothing's stopped you so far from making them."

"Plutarch has a standing agreement with these people. The best he can do is convince them to be allies, but they won't let themselves be controlled by someone who isn't one their own," Onyx frowned, "This is the best I can do, for your people and for these kids and our people in the mountains, no better."

Finnick nodded slowly, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "The fact is, we need people and how we get people isn't as important as having them," he let out a long, deep sigh, "I'll tell them you're doing your best. Maybe when this group is out of there, we can figure something out."

Finnick got to his feet and clasped Onyx's hand in a strong shake. He picked up a wrapped parcel containing a stack of furs – among other things – and made his way back out to his escort. Finnick climbed aboard the train full of false smiles and waves, he let himself be seated in a luxury car and a drink be poured for him. Out the window, he watched as the Peacekeepers who claimed to be present for his protection stayed behind. Everything was getting out of hand, everything was starting to throw a kink in the original plan.

_If only the Capitol could do what we planned for them to do,_ Finnick bit his lower lip, _then I wouldn't have to be responsible for tossing a couple of teenagers out into the woods and wish them good luck in finding their rebel forces._

Finnick turned his face to the windows and watched as the train disappeared into the blackness of the tunnel, carrying him into the bowels of the Capitol train station once again. Back into his own personal hell.


	6. Nowheresville

**A/N:**I'm a little slow updating lately, I've been busy with other stuff recently. On the bright side, I know where everything is going now. Enjoy this cluster of characters, you'll be with them for another three-ish chapters before they merge with canon characters. :)

**Chapter 6: Nowheresville**

_"Butterflies better understand than you, the meaning of love and sacrifices one must make for their beloved." ― M.F. Moonzajer_

Calliope sat at her desk, fixed on a bigger version of the tiny map that sat off to her right. She stared down at the District 1 map and traced her finger across outlined paths. Callie had been studying the map for almost an entire day, letting the Hunger Games play on in the background as ordered. Twice Cordelia had brought her a mug of tea and a small plate of delicately trimmed sandwiches which meant dinner was drawing near. Calliope leaned back and rubbed her eyes, taking in the growing darkness outside her room.

She got to her feet and stretched out, a squeaking noise lifted itself out of her gut with the motion. Finally, a gentle knock sounded on Callie's door and she gave a loud grunt of approval for admittance.

Ava slinked around the door, the fabric of some chiffon sequined gown made a rushing noise, "Calliope," her voice was concerned, "your stepfather and I want you to come eat with us this time. We're both worried about you."

Calliope frowned, _One of you is worried about me, the other is suspicious_. She nodded assent anyway, "Sure. I'll be down for dinner."

Ava reached out and squeezed her shoulder, rubbing the navy blue satin of her loose blouse slowly, "We just want you to be okay."

Plural prepositions implied the feeling was one-way, but Calliope smiled reassuringly after a few moments. She took her mother's hand and squeezed it gently before letting it drop, "I'll be right down,"

On her way out, Ava paused at the ornate Rococo-style desk and tilted the map with her fingertips. She grunted in curiosity before disappearing. Callie's eyes watched the door closed before she let her frown return. Suddenly, she glanced at the map and her heart fluttered.

She could feel the panic starting to grow inside her, _She didn't say anything. Why didn't she say anything?_

Calliope threw herself at the desk and folded up the large paper, taking the smaller one and shoving them into the largest drawer in the desk. After a moment, she thought better of it and pulled them back out. Calliope climbed up the desk and placed her hands on either side of the ventilation grate in her room, using nimble fingers to tug at the screws. Eventually, she got a grip on them and twisted the case off the vent. Callie climbed down and folded the larger map small enough to fit in the tiny space. She got back on the desk and slid the maps and the box with the ever-hardening roll Finnick had given her into the vent. She climbed down slowly and looked up at her work, dusting off her hands.

Calliope turned to the door, ready to head down for dinner, and froze. Cordelia had been watching her. So silent, Calliope hadn't even heard her come in. Cordelia's gaze flickered up to the vent and back to Callie, "Your mother asked me to get you."

Cordelia's expression was unreadable, Calliope shifted uncomfortably and shoved her bare feet into pumps that matched her silk blouse and too-tight dark denim jeans. Callie pretended nothing had happened, tried to keep her head high as she walked beside the serving woman. She sat carefully at the table and let her eyes rest on Scipio's stern face. He never smiled, not once. Callie tried to conjure up a moment in her childhood when she remembered his laughter, but came up with nothing. Scipio didn't even acknowledge her when she sat down, simply tucked a napkin into the front of his shirt and started cutting the chunk of meat so rare it would probably try to get away from his fork if it knew any better.

Callie's gaze fell down on her own plate and she delicately sliced thin ribbons of the palm-sized steak in front of her. She didn't say a word. Ava's eyes were on her and she lifted her delicate hand to sip wine from a crystal glass. The silence in the room was stifling. There was a tension in it that nobody could point a finger at, but it seemed strongest between Calliope and Scipio.

Callie cleared her throat and swallowed a mouthful of the flowery red wine in her own glass, "I'm going out after dinner. I promised Glory I would watch some of the Games with him."

It was a lie. Everyone around her seemed to know it was a lie, but nobody would acknowledge it. Ava smiled emptily and nodded at her.

"Fine," Scipio's gruff voice cut the air like between them, "Two hours, no more."

They had never restricted her with a curfew before, especially not since Calliope had graduated from the Academy. She frowned and let the defiance show on her face, "If it takes that long, then yes. If not," she trailed off and punctuated her sentence with a shrug.

Scipio's eyes flashed up at her, cold and soulless, "Two hours." He repeated, more sternly.

Callie's grip on her glass tightened and she met his eyes, "Say it all you like, I'll be home when I'm home."

She jumped when he slammed his fist on the table, shoving his chair back and moving to his feet in a motion so fluid it was like Scipio had been born doing it. He glared down at her, hard, blood from his steak tinged the edges of his lips a dark red, "You will be home when I say you will be home. You will go out when I say you will go out. If you don't want to be home in two hours, then you won't go."

Callie shoved herself back and stood up with him. She was short, slender in stature, and stood almost a full foot shorter than her very tall stepfather, "In the eyes of District 1 law I'm considered an adult after I graduated the Academy. I will go out when I please and I will come home when I am done."

"Then you can get a job and move into your own residence." He hissed.

Ava was on her feet, too, a gentle hand on Scipio's shoulder, "Now, both of you stop this," her voice was calm and soothing, "Calliope, be home before midnight and no later. Scipio, please calm down, she's just tired of being treated like a child."

Scipio's eyes kept their sharp edge to them, but he let himself be coaxed, "Then she should stop holing herself up in her room and acting like one."

Calliope didn't move, but she watched him sit. She waited until he had returned to his own meal to do the same, turning her gaze back to her food, "Before midnight." She conceded through gritted teeth.

Callie shoved the plate away and looked at Ava after a few minutes of choking down the otherwise pleasant food. Ava nodded a little and Calliope got up and walked off briskly. In the hallway, Cordelia met her with a long black coat and held it up for her to shove her arms through.

"Thank you," Callie muttered, forgetting about her apprehension with Cordelia earlier.

Cordelia spun her gently and buttoned two of the buttons at the front of the coat, making a point to look Calliope in the eyes after she had finished. She gave her a small, secretive smile, "I'm very good at covering things up."

Recognition flashed on Calliope's face and her head snapped up to meet Cordelia's. They stared at each other for a long moment before Callie nodded – once and short – before leaving the house. The walk to Glory's was cool and lonely, but not tiresome. He lived close enough to walk, not like the Academy where Calliope had been driven to every day. She enjoyed the few moments of being truly alone, letting the night breeze caress her carefully arranged hair, plaited in a sequence of braids that left it twisted at the back of her head almost like a pastry decoration. Callie sighed heavily and ran her hand over her face, her gaze lifting up to the small point in the distance of the mountain sticking up over the border fence.

Calliope had been tucked in her room pouring over an old map she'd found in the basement of the Lightwood estate for the better part of the day. The map was a little outdated, but the boundaries hadn't changed, so she had busied herself with looking for something, anything, that would let her around them without being electrocuted. It was useless. District 1 was as rolled up in its electric fence tucked away safely. Whatever _safely _meant anyway. There were no unaccounted rivers, no breaks in the fence over some dense forest, nothing. It had been a tiresome, hope-draining task, but Calliope had kept at it all day retracing her routes over and over again.

The pedestal in front of Glory's house sprang to life and Glory's smiling head appeared in front of her at the end of the walkway, "Your mom called and said you were coming."

Ava had been checking on her, probably at Scipio's behest, "Yeah. My stepfather has been on a war path against me. More than normal, I mean," she gave him a mischievous smirk.

Glory let out a deep laugh and shook his head, beckoning her inside. The door opened before Callie reached the edge of the walk and Glory leaned in the doorway, arms folded over the chest of a black dress shirt that seemed to be struggling to hold together over his barrel chest. He moved aside and let her in, the door clicked shut softly behind her.

Calliope followed Glory into the kitchen, an expanse of dark red wood and black granite spotted with the shine of new appliances. Onyx had insisted the redesign of the almost unused kitchen mimic the rest of the house, strong lines and dark, rich colors. Glory opened the cooling unit and pulled out a plate of some strawberry and cream filled pastries. He pulled back the preservation seal and handed her one.

Together they stood in the kitchen silently, snacking on the pastries. It felt like they were both keeping things from one another all of a sudden. Callie's shoulders felt heavy with her own secret, but she didn't know how to tell Glory what was going on. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Ninth day is tomorrow. Marvel is still in the running for Victor," Glory's tone was stretched thin, he was stating a fact rather than using the forced encouragement they had been. The façade of excitement had faded lately, at least between Glory and Calliope.

"Yeah," The name sounded foreign in Calliope's ears. She sighed heavily and looked up at the holographic screen alive on the edge of the counter. Marvel sat at the intricate camp with Cato and Clove and another two Tributes she didn't recognize. They were chatting and laughing around a fire, so bold and arrogant, confident that nothing could hurt them. Callie didn't really recognize the youth in front of the fire. Intellectually, she knew it was Marvel, but emotionally it was as if she was watching any other stranger. If Marvel came back, it wouldn't be like it was. It wouldn't be to Callie.

_She can hurt you,_ Callie's eyes narrowed and she conjured up an image of Katniss' determined face in her mind, _she might be the only one left who can, but she can hurt you._

Eight days ago, such a thought never would have entered Calliope's mind, she would have rather died than wish such blight on her beloved Marvel. Now, though, so much had changed it was like a sinkhole had opened up and swallowed whatever had been between them, the years they had spent together, and spit them back out into nowhere.

Onyx walked into the room on his larger than life frame and gave her a warm smile, "Calliope, I thought I heard your voice."

The large man reached over his equally large son and plucked a pastry, watching the screen with blank eyes. Callie couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she knew it wasn't pride in his District Tribute now. Onyx let a slow, tired sigh slip out of his mouth. Or was it sad? Either way, he patted his son's shoulder, "I'm just glad it wasn't you."

Onyx's voice had been a whisper, uncharacteristic of his form. He gave Callie a sad, conciliatory look, "I'm sorry about your friend, but I'm glad you're still here with us."

Treasonous words from Onyx Fidentis; speaking out against the Games was expressly prohibited in District 1, the punishment was handing over the offender to the Peacekeepers. The Games were a revelry, marvelous celebration, festival of strength. The mayor of their District, Otis Fleet, would have come down on Onyx like a hammer on a nail. Otis took the Games and their reverence very seriously, rumor had claimed he was in the pocket of some higher up officials in the Capitol to avoid his children being sent off as Tributes. It did seem strange that out of five children, none of Otis' ever seemed to qualify despite his insistence that the Games were an honor.

Onyx's hand connected the three of them into a link of insubordination, a link of treasonous thoughts and more treasonous action. A shiver ran up Calliope's spine thinking of the maps in her vent. Onyx glanced at her and frowned, "Are you okay?"

She managed a smile, "Yeah, fine. It's just been a hard couple of days."

Onyx's eyes stayed locked on her face, searching her for something, before he jerked his head to indicate they follow him, "I want to show you something."

Calliope looked to Glory for support, but Glory wouldn't meet her eyes. He knew what his father was going to show her, but something in him was anxious about it. Callie followed Onyx cautiously into his office.

Inside, it smelled like musty paper and filtered air. Stacks of folders were organized behind him, unorganized folders shoved off onto another cabinet. She had the distinct feeling that every drawer and cupboard in this room was brimming with carefully monitored documents. Onyx closed the door behind them and flicked a switch, which was odd considering the lights were automatic and already on. Callie looked around the impressive room and back to Onyx. Glory moved off to a corner where he leaned with his arms folded again, he wasn't watching the exchange and focused instead on twisting his fingers around the shock of electric blue in his hair.

Onyx sat down and inhaled slowly, not gesturing for her to sit down, but still expecting it. Calliope sat opposite him, her whole body tingling with anticipation when he leaned forwards.

"I've heard you met a good friend of mine, Finnick O'dair," Onyx help up his hand when she opened her mouth to speak, "I know all about it, I know all about him. In fact, I know more than you think Finnick does."

Calliope's expression twisted into puzzlement, but she sat quietly anyway and ignored the burning wealth of questions her mind had begun to flip through.

"I know about the rebellion," Onyx's voice was quiet and hard, his words made her blood bubble with anticipation, "I'm trying to help you, but there's a problem with getting you out. Him," he gestured at Glory, "I can handle, it's a matter of some delivery papers and a good excuse. You, however, are a complicated mess."

Calliope had stopped breathing, she was staring at Onyx now, mouth drifting open and closed while she struggled to find the words, "Why?" was all she could manage.

It was an ambiguous word, but it covered every aspect of the situation that her mind had been rolling over and over. Onyx's mouth twitched into a conspiratorial smile, "I know because I spend enough time among the Capitol and the Districts to know who's wrong and who's right. I help because it's wrong to throw children into an Arena and watch them slaughter one another. It's more than that, more complicated than just the Games," he sighed and rubbed his eyes, "It's the politics that keep us in these fences, the laws that bind our hands and force us to produce. We are all essentially indentured servants living under the illusion of freedom." Onyx looked up at her sadly, "As for your other 'why', I'm sure you can guess what makes your situation more complicated. You're not my child and I have every confidence Scipio and Ava wouldn't exactly release you to my custodianship."

Calliope was watching this large, intelligent man with a successful business and a glowing relationship with the Capitol. All of their lives were dedicated to producing for a Capitol that relied on the Districts, but forced them to sacrifice everything for the privilege. It had been a toxic relationship from its inception, but now it was reaching maximum capacity. She said nothing.

"I can't get you out to the rebel base," Onyx said flatly, his expression practiced and calm, "But it might be easier to do the second best thing."

"What's the second best thing?" Calliope said immediately, trying to keep the shock out of her voice. Her close friend's father had revealed to her he was a rebel orchestrator and recruiter who had been trying to get Callie out of District 1 to join the rebellion. The news took the walls of the house of knowledge she had built and pushed them all inwards. It was a house of cards, everything and everyone she had known wasn't what they claimed to be. Calliope was determined to keep her cool, pretend like none of this affected her or surprised her in anyway. She wrung her hands out of his sight to stop them from shaking.

"The second best thing is having you meet with an independent sect, a splinter cell if you will. Same desires, same goals, same illegal activities," Onyx smiled as he tried to joke, but the smile didn't touch his eyes, "same contacts, but a different method of doing things. They're allies of the true rebellion, but they would be willing to take you if you want to go."

_Go,_ Callie rolled the word around on her tongue, _go join the rebellion_. Goosebumps made the hair on her arms stand up rigidly, the electricity and anticipation coursing through her made her sit straight up in the chair. She found herself unable to respond, her voice had fled in her time of most desperate need. Hoarsely, she forced breath through her throat, "What do I have to do."

Calliope had to force herself not to skip all the way back home. She was grateful the darkness concealed her smile and tilted her head up to the dark midnight sky, choking back a howl of excitement. Finally, she had done it. Something had happened, the rebellion had sought her out, they had wanted her. Callie permitted her too-excited legs a few paces of skipping, but stopped when she realized how painful it was to skip in four-inch pumps.

Callie closed the door to the Lightwood Estate slowly, despite all the lights being on and hearing the movement of persons upstairs. She paused when she was taking off her coat and listened to the footsteps again. Her eyes widened in panic and she hurried her way out of the coat that had decided to fight her arms. They were in Calliope's room. All of the footsteps, heavy enough to be Scipio's and a set light enough to be Ava's, were coming from her bedroom.

Callie flung herself around the banister and ignored the pain in her feet as she bounded up the steps two at a time. She threw herself into her doorway and couldn't stop the rage from falling over her face like a curtain, "What are you _doing_?!" she shrieked.

Scipio turned his eyes up coolly from flipping through a book he had pulled off her shelf. Everything was in disarray. The drawers of the desk were opened, papers pulled out, her chest looked like it had been ransacked, and her closet had been pulled apart. Ava stood off to the side, chewing nervously on her thumbnail.

"What does it look like we're doing?" he eyed her and his lips slid into a sinister smirk, "Your mother said she found a map on your desk. I want to know where it is."

Calliope's chest was heaving with deep, furious breaths, her face was flushed. She took five wide, terrible steps towards him and snatched the book away, "My mother is mistaken."

Scipio clicked his tongue at her, "Oh, I don't think she is," his eyes were alight with venom, "Your mother was able to describe it in great detail. Now give it to me," he extended his hand as though she had it on her person.

Calliope's grip tightened on the book and she clutched it desperately to her chest, "Get out." Her voice was flat, there was no emotion she could inject into her tone that would accurately describe how she felt.

Ava shifted nervously and finally chirped in an anxious voice, "Oh, Calliope, just give it to him."

Callie's eyes snapped to her mother and she froze her with an icy glare, "Shut up."

Scipio's smirk turned into a frown and he took a step towards her, "Don't you dare address your mother like that. Now give it to me, you little brat, or I'll have you turned in."

Calliope said nothing. Whether or not she gave him the maps, he would turn her in for treason. Scipio had the benefit of being a Capitoline, the benefit of inscrutability in the eyes of the Capitol and thus the Peacekeepers. He could make something up and send her away without so much as a passing glance. Her eyelids fluttered and she tried to conceal a glance at the untouched vent grating. Scipio's smirk returned and he retraced the glance, even though it had just been a second.

He chuckled darkly and wagged a finger at her, "You crafty little snake," Scipio started for the vent and Calliope tossed down the book, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to her.

"Stop it or I swear-"

"You swear _what_?" Scipio laughed again and jerked his arm free. Callie couldn't move, she just watched him numbly as he walked to the vent and reached up with his long arms. The screws gave easily under his hands and he pulled the vent grating off. Scipio's hand groped about in the vent and his smile slowly faded.

Callie's entire body was too frozen, too numb to move. She simply waited and watched him feeling around in the vent shaft. Any moment now his hand would connect with the papers, the bread box, and that would be it. All of the plans Callie, Onyx, and Glory had worked on would be dead in the water. Scipio pulled his hand back, empty, and whirled on her.

"Where is it?!" Calliope's expression transitioned from mute to confused, she had definitely hidden it there, "What did you do with it?!"

Scipio was in front of her now, looming over Callie like a gargoyle. She stammered, just as confused as he was, "I-I don't know what you mean," her brain took the opportunity to lie without Callie realizing it, "I don't have a map, I told you Ava was wrong."

Ava's eyes widened pleadingly for a moment, but were overtaken by a mask of reconsideration. Finally, she nodded slowly, "Y-yes, maybe I was. I think it was a history book. Just a map of the old District 1 in a book. I think I was wrong, I'm sorry." Her voice was fragile and afraid.

Scipio shot her a look and cast his eyes over Callie one more time. He stalked away towards Ava and in haled deeply, exhaled sharply, like a furious bull. He said nothing else, just stomped loudly out of the room. Ava followed after him with dainty steps clicking like tiny chicken feet on the hardwood. Calliope didn't move. She stared blankly at the vent in confusion.

Calliope's whole body started to tremble. She didn't realize she was shaking, but she felt like a leave in the wind now. The tremors were so bad she dropped to her knees and pitched forwards on her hands. Her breath came in desperate gasps and she clutched a hand against the tightness in her chest. Calliope let herself drain, let the emotions flood out of her into the ground under her knees. She didn't cry or groan or make any noise at all, just the sound of her deep, heavy breaths eventually evening out.

Finally, Calliope stood up again, slowly, and ditched her too-tall shoes. She walked to the desk and stared up in the vent, her fingertips barely touched the mouth of it where Scipio had been able to reach all the way inside. Her terminal chimed with an incoming message. Callie almost ignored it, but she forced herself to read the message anyway.

_They're coming. Pack. Be ready in five._

There was no return address, no traceable IP, no signature, but Calliope knew who it was. She had enough fear for one day, but now it seemed to only be getting worse. Someone opened her door and closed it softly. Callie looked up through hazy eyes and saw Cordelia, back pinned to the door and a nearly-empty rucksack in her hands.

Cordelia looked around the room and covered her mouth, walking towards her mistress in careful strides, "I'm sorry, Miss Calliope."

"Calliope," she choked out, trying to smile. Callie had to pack. Callie had to pack now. Why was Cordelia holding a pack?

It was like Cordelia read her mind, pushing the nearly-empty back into her hands, "You have to go. Master Onyx sent me the alert, you have to pack and go now. I put some things in there for you, some very important things."

Calliope opened the pack slowly. There, fixed at the bottom of the back, was the little pink baker's box and the two white forms of a large and small map. She looked up, shocked, ready to thank Cordelia, but the serving woman was sifting through the mess of clothes in the bathroom.

Calliope followed her dumbly and held the bag open. Cordelia stuffed in two pairs of boots, a few pairs of dark jeans, a sweater, a heavy jacket, thick socks, a pair of gloves, some warm shirts, and some warm clothes. Without missing a beat, the woman turned and shoved washing supplies into a second, smaller waterproof bag she produced from her wide skirt. Callie watched her shove the bag into the rucksack and followed Cordelia again, letting the woman pull out a single blanket from the tangled mess that once made up the contents of her hope chest.

Finally, Cordelia took the bag from Callie and put her hands on her arms, "Calliope, you have to get out of here, now."

Callie nodded once, still unfeeling. Cordelia disappeared into the closet again and came back with a pair of sneakers and socks. Callie changed into them quickly, unbuttoning her blouse while she shoved her feet into the sneakers. She was moving more quickly now, her body seemed to be taking control of itself despite the shock she had been given. She pulled a black cotton t-shirt over her head and zipped up the maroon hooded vest Cordelia handed her. Callie tugged on a pair of gloves missing the fingers and looped the belt through her jeans that Cordelia had handed her.

Finally, Cordelia stepped back, cocking her head to the door to listen, "They're not here yet. You have to go," she shoved her towards the window urgently, but gently, and opened it for her. There was a huge tree that leaned towards the window, perfect for climbing up and down to sneak out of. Calliope had done so many times during her Academy days, sneaking out into the fields to chase the mutation Horsys and drink stolen alcohol with Glimmer and Marvel.

Now, Calliope seemed to have come back into her own body. She looked out the window and hauled the pack over her shoulders, it wasn't very heavy for the amount of stuff that had been packed into it. Callie stared at Cordelia for a moment, "Why did you help me?"

Cordelia smiled and pulled her into a tight hug, unexpected from a woman she didn't know very well, "Because the District needs more people like you. I'm the one who told Onyx about you, I made sure he could get you out. Scipio has been trying to pin you as a traitor for weeks. I thought I'd have more time to explain but-"

There were sounds downstairs, the door shut heavily. Cordelia released her quickly and shoved her again towards the window, "Go, now." Her voice was urgent.

Callie grabbed the branches, awkward with the weight of the pack, and hauled herself out of the window and onto the thick tree branches. She scrambled down without thinking about it and only paused at the base of the tree to look up, just in time to see Cordelia shut the window and turn away. At the front of the house, Callie saw a Peacekeeper detainment vehicle through the front windows. Nobody had thought to secure the back of the house.

Callie didn't waste another moment, she just turned to the field and ran. It wasn't an erratic run, it was the carefully trained brisk jog of a soldier she had been taught in the Academy. The training was like a muscle reflex, completely involuntary when she did it. Her pace was even, breath quick yet steady, and she reached the dense tree line in a matter of minutes. Suddenly, a bang rang out across the field and she jumped, pushing back a scream. Callie paused at the trees and turned back, staring at the estate in horror.

_Cordelia,_ she thought, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. Callie almost started to cry, felt the sting of hot tears at the corner of her eyes, when a pair of strong, familiar hands grabbed her and pulled her into the darkness of the forest.

Calliope jerked and twisted, lashing out at her captor. Finally, she reeled backwards and stared up into Glory's dark eyes. His face was serious and partially obscured, but she could tell he was frowning, "We have to go now," he said in a low voice.

"I got that," Callie responded, just as low, "But where exactly are we going to go?"

"Just wait a few minutes. We're sticking to the plan, we're just going to do it earlier," Glory seemed to be looking around for something, he was waiting patiently.

Calliope shifted nervously, glancing at the house that now seemed to be alight with Peacekeepers. She knew in her mind's eye the Head Peacekeeper would be there, Torvald was a vicious man who loved a bit of excitement. Unfortunately for him, he was equipped with Peacekeepers who rarely saw action in District 1 or 2 and were mildly out of practice.

She looked back up at Glory, still watching the dark woods over his shoulder, "I thought the point of going was to, you know, _go_."

"Shh," he raised a hand and lifted his head to get a better listen. There was a rusting in the brush behind him and Glory smiled. Suddenly, Tithe's blonde head popped into view.

Tithe was tugging a black had over his hair and waved slowly, "A fine evening for an escape, my lady and my gentleman."

Calliope stared at him, wide-eyed, "Tithe? You?"

Tithe nodded and shot her a cheeky smile, "What, did you think you were the only decent actor the District could conjure up?"

It made sense the more Callie thought about it. Tithe's seeming too-interested in the Games, his helping her at Glory's party, his coming to sit with her every now and then since Glimmer's death. Calliope found herself smiling. Tithe was funny, a bit of humor to this treacherous journey that would make it bearable.

Glory finally nodded, "We're ready then. Come on."

Calliope and Tithe followed him into the darkness. The plan was still underway, just under a different way. This wasn't something Onyx had told her would happen, but he had told Cordelia to get her out. He must have had a Plan B in case of something like this.

The thought of Cordelia made her feel suddenly lonely. Calliope knew in her heart that the gunshot had been for Cordelia, but she tried not to think about it as they all moved collectively in a line behind Glory, silent. Nobody spoke, the night was filled only with their huffing and puffing as they trekked tirelessly towards the train tracks. Calliope wasn't sure where they were going or how far they had gone, but by the time she had looked up the sky was gray with dawn. They must have been travelling for miles, carefully concealing their steps and tossing sticks away rather than stepping on them. Finally, Glory stopped them all with a raised hand.

A boxcar sat open on the tracks, attached to a rusty, disused old train. Onyx had told them about this boxcar, about the journey his men took to go trapping in the mountains. Onyx's company had a special pass that allowed him to go out and harvest rabbit pelts, fox pelts, turkey feathers, all manner of animals for his business. His men knew way he did, Onyx more or less implied all of them were at one time part of this splinter militia stowed away in the mountains.

Glory heaved the door back and revealed an empty car. He helped Tithe and Calliope inside and followed them, closing it behind himself, "The trapping team moves out tomorrow, out the eastern tunnel towards the mountains."

Nobody used the eastern tunnel anymore, except the furrier companies like Glory's father. There wasn't any need to since that way led away from the Capitol. Calliope slouched against her pack and sighed heavily. The dangerous journey wasn't over yet, it was clear Scipio would pursue Onyx and demand he help them find her. If Scipio had any brains – which he did – he would demand to speak to Glory. What would he do when Glory wasn't there? What would they all do?

It was Calliope's last thought before slipping down into the clutches of sleep she had never even felt coming. Darkness took over and her body fell slack. Everything in her had been drained by her confusing escape into nowhere.


	7. All The Pieces

**A/N: **I wrote out like 3 chapters at once so push everything along. Chapter 8 everything comes together and canon meets original.

**Chapter 7: All The Pieces**

_"and when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be beautiful." - Ruskin Bond_

It was the feeling of movement that woke Calliope up only a few short hours later. She jerked, alarmed at her surroundings in her grogginess, before remembering the events of the night before. Callie ran a quick hand through her tangled hair and tried to rub sleep from her eyes. Looking around, it sank in that they were in a train car. That very train car was moving. Panic filled her and Callie reached over to shake Glory's massive shoulder, she lashed out and hit Tithe with a swift kick to the shin.

"Hey!" Tithe cried, voice hoarse with sleep. He exhaled angrily and blinked himself awake, looking around, "We're moving."

Glory grunted and swatted Calliope's hand away when she shook him again, "That's the point."

"Are we supposed to be moving?" Calliope tried to pretend she wasn't suddenly nervous.

"Yes," Glory sighed and sat up, running a hand over his face and looking down at her with tired eyes, "The plan was to get to the eastern train, my dad's company's train. What did you think the next step was?"

She shrugged, embarrassed, "I don't know, have someone meet us here or something."

"Nope," Glory smiled as reassuringly as he could muster on very little sleep and a lot of physical exertion, "We go until the train stops and slip out the back. I trust our map bearer to figure out where we are. Then it's a matter of trekking to the rendezvous point."

Tithe grunted his assent and looked around the car again. It was dark inside, but light filtered through the cracks in the sliding doors on either side of the car. Bags of cured pelts were stuffed in the corners leaving a wide open space in the middle for the three of them. Glory unzipped his pack and reached into its depths, rustling through clothes and objects.

"Since we're stuck here," he strained and finally pulled his hand out, holding a portable screen, "we might as well see what's happening."

Glory pulled the antenna out of its concealed corner and pressed a small, red button. The gadget sprang to life and an image flickered on the thin glass, fuzzy and weak, but an image. It was the Hunger Games.

Calliope shifted closer to watch and pressed herself into Glory's shoulder, Tithe crept up next to her and squeezed into her to get a good look. Silence was all they shared, listening to the low volume of the announcers and staring at the image in front of them.

The Career Pack sat in a tent, laughing at some dramatization of an earlier kill by the blond boy, Cato.

Calliope frowned when Marvel doubled over himself with laughter on the screen. Glory's arm reached around her and squeezed her shoulder, Tithe placed a reassuring hand on her leg. Suddenly, the Careers looked up collectively. Smoke had begun to plume over the tree line and they all got to their feet, Marvel grasping a long spear. It had always been his best weapon at the Academy, he could out throw any of the other Graduates.

"Marvel, go check it out," Cato's authoritative voice crackled through the small speaker.

Marvel responded with a nod. Calliope's chest felt tight and she watched the screen through indifferent eyes, she was trying not to know this boy who couldn't possibly be her Marvel. There was no way this boy wielding a spear and trekking into the forest was the boy she had sat on the couch with and watched fashion shows, the boy who sparred with her to get her attention, the boy who had kissed her so reluctantly the first time.

No, it wasn't that Marvel. That one was dead. This new Marvel on the small screen was someone new and vicious, a lion stalking its prey. He jogged steadily through the woods, his footsteps muffled in the underbrush. There was a cry on the screen of a small girl, Glory tensed and his expression was pulled taut. Tithe watched through calm, calculating eyes, but betrayed a frown on his face. Marvel's face spread into that wolfish grin he had developed, predatory and cruel, and he picked up his pace in the direction of the cries.

The camera switched angles and focused on Katniss, rushing for the trap that held Rue.

"I'm here, I'm here," Katniss called reassuringly, jogging quickly towards the captured child. Calliope wanted to call out, warn her of the storm heading her direction. Marvel was as silent as a cat in the trees, stalking through the brush and grass quietly with his eyes fixed on the two young girls. Finally, Marvel broke the tree cover and leaped forwards.

"Katniss!" Rue screamed, pointing at him.

It was a blur, everything that happened next was almost too fast to see. Marvel hurled his spear at Katniss, she pulled herself out of its path and let an arrow fly from her bow. It hit true, right in the center of his chest. Katniss exhaled visibly and turned to finish helping Rue out of the trap.

The girl froze, her face horrified. Marvel's spear had fixed itself in the girl's gut. Rue's face was blank, surprised as she tugged on the end of the spear. Katniss was rushing to her, cutting her free and pulling

Rue into her lap. Calliope covered her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. Tears burned in her eyes and she let them roll down her face in silent streams, watching the scene before her. Rue had whispered something inaudible on the crackling screen and Katniss was lost in a sea of tears of her own. Calliope's voice squeezed itself out of a throat so tight it was aching, "No."

Tithe turned his head away and watched the flickering daylight in the cracks of the door, refusing to look at the screen. He was grieved by what had happened, but it wasn't for the death of Rue. Tithe and Marvel had been friends, he had watched Marvel's descent into cruel madness as much as Calliope had and this was torturous. It was destined, Tithe knew it when he said goodbye to Marvel at the station on Reaping Day. It was final when they bid each other goodbye, the transformation of the boy who had once taken time to coach him through the Survival Skills courses was indescribable. It was fitting, Katniss deserved the kill. Tithe exhaled slow and easy to stop himself from shaking. Katniss wouldn't relish in Marvel's death, she wouldn't gloat or reenact it to her friends. Katniss would carry Marvel's death with her like a burden she could never unload. It was fitting.

The three of them huddled closer together, all letting themselves turn back to the screen after a few moments of grief for their fallen friend. Nobody singled Calliope out this time, sought her out as the most bereaved of them all. In their own way, Glory and Tithe had understood Calliope had let Marvel die a long time ago. Now it was three friends watching this District 12 girl carry a fragile body to an open meadow. None of them spoke while they watched her plucking small white flowers and placing them around Rue's small body. They must have been watching the screen for an hour, fixed on Katniss Everdeen's makeshift funeral pyre. Katniss got to her feet after a few moments of kneeling in front of her friend, her face fixed in a hard resolve. She stared right up into one of the cameras and held up three fingers, solidarity for a fallen ally.

Without thinking, all three of the District 1 runaways trapped in a boxcar lifted three fingers and kissed them, holding their hands out to the screen. Glory, Tithe, and Calliope willed Katniss to feel their solidarity at the same time. The energy between the three of them was connected in that moment, they all felt the loss off the little girl, much too young, from District 11 and the loss of their own friends.

Nobody said anything when Glory switched off the screen, nobody moved. The three of them seemed to lean on one another in the silence, listening to the rush of air outside the car. It didn't take much longer for the car to begin to slow after that. Tithe lifted himself off Calliope and got to his feet. He pressed one of the sliding doors open as quietly as he could and closet it swiftly, "We're stopping. I can't say for sure, but I think we're in the middle of nowhere."

His attempt at humor worked, Callie's lips twitched in to a smile, "Are we outside the wall?"

"We've been on the move for two hours or so, we better be," Glory grumbled and gingerly slid Callie off of him to go take a look. He opened the door and nodded back at them, "Our stop is coming up soon. The conductor is slowing down to let us out."

"How many people in your dad's company are in on this?" Tithe reached down and pulled his pack onto his shoulders, snapping it around his shrugged, both to put on his own and answer Tithe's question, "Probably most of them, if I had to guess."

"How have they not been caught and tried as rebels?" Callie followed suit and secured her rucksack over her shoulders.

"My dad knows the right people and doesn't make it a habit to smuggle people out of the Districts," Glory flashed a light smile which she returned.

The train slowed again, brakes audible and squealing with the effort. Someone knocked on the door of the car and slid it open without waiting for a response. A grizzled train hand jogged briskly beside the car and called in to them, "You them?"

The three nodded and the man waved for them to disembark ,"This is as far as you go, boss said you would figure it out from here. Come on, move it," his voice was husky and harsh, he had been in the cargo business for too long.

Tithe was the first out the door, Calliope was hot on his heels. Glory landed in the grass with a thud. Callie got up and brushed her hands off on her pants, turning back in time to see the train hand swing himself into the open car. The man blew a whistle from under his shirt and the train sounded its horn in reply, the wheels churned more briskly and the train surged forwards and wound around the side of a thick forest. The trio stood quietly and watched their last hope of return disappear around the bend of trees. It took a few moments for them to gather their whereabouts.

Calliope pulled her pack off and tugged the map from the front pouch. She spread it open and turned to stare at the sky, just enough morning light left to orient her northeast. She extended a slender finger towards the forest where the huge mountain sat dormant, waiting, "That way. Head northeast for a few miles 'til we hit that mountain. All I've got to go on is some stupid marker over the whole thing so once we're there we just have to pray whoever we're meeting up with finds us."

"Of course, that makes sense. Huge mountain? No problem, just hope and believe. Solid plan," Tithe quipped, but he checked his pack adjustment, "So, lady and gentleman, are we ready to employ some of our Academy skills?"

Calliope took the lead in their formation, a simple line since there were only three of them. She had the map practically memorized by this point and now that they were oriented, it was a matter of tapping into her mental map of the area. They jogged in silence, conserving their lungs for the hustle to the woods. The field they had been dropped in was much bigger than they thought, it took almost an hour and a half for them to cross it. When they reached the trees, the three of them paused to catch their breath.

Glory rubbed at his chest as it heaved with each gasp for air, "It's amazing how out of shape you can get in two weeks."

"It's amazing how many cream puffs you can eat in two weeks," Calliope said between breaths with a grin. She was doubled over on herself and inhaling sharply, "Did anyone think to bring water?"

Cordelia had packed her bag, but none of it had been food or water. An empty water bottle, of course, was clipped to the back along with a full bag of survival supplies buried in it somewhere, but she hadn't had time to fill it. Tithe unclipped his and passed it to her. The three of them watched the train tracks, empty and eerie in the early afternoon sun. The valley was silent, only the humming of cicadas in the trees filled their ears. It would be cooling off in a few weeks. Wherever they were off to, it had better be prepared for the weather change.

They didn't stay long, Calliope took the lead again and slowed her pace. Moving through the woods wasn't as easy as jogging through a field and they needed to slow to walking to account for fallen branches and soft dirt. While they moved through the woods, Glory's low baritone voice started humming a song they had all learned when they were younger. Some called it Stone Song, other's called it Gold Song. Calliope fell into the former camp, so did Glory. Tithe's light tenor hum played in harmony with Glory and Calliope eventually gave in and filled the gaps in the notes with her gentle soprano. The three of them welded their voices together into a fast, uplifting tune. It filled the silence to go through refrain after refrain and kept their spirits up.

They hardly noticed it was getting dark until dusk began to fall under the dense canopy of trees. Calliope lifted her hand over her shoulder in a balled fist and the two young men stopped immediately. She looked around the area and jerked her head towards a small clearing, "We'll camp there. No use in pushing too hard if we can't see where we're going."

They listened to her without question, Calliope felt a sensation of gratitude and pride in herself. She helped clear away some branches and stack branches against one another to make a fire. It was small enough to be obscured by the night and forest, but big enough to keep the three of them warm against the cool night air for a little while.

"I found a stream," Tithe said in a low voice, jerking his head so they followed him, "It's not much, but it's good for filling our bottles and washing this dirt off."

Calliope let out a long, grateful sigh. It wasn't the hot, steamy shower she had been accustomed to, but it was water and it was clean. When she mustered the courage to dunk her hair in it, the cold hit her like a slap. She let out a small cry, but forced herself not to pull back until she had sufficiently scrubbed as much sweat and dirt out of her long blond locks as she could.

Tithe laughed at her, "It won't stop amazing me the things girls do to look good," he made a face at Glory who at done the same, "And some guys, I suppose."

Tithe splashed his arms and face, but didn't seem to mind the stickiness of sweat and dirt in his hair. Calliope wrapped her hair in one of her shirts to wring it out and hung it on a branch close to the fire. She was shivering from the cold when she finally rested her back against the tree trunk. Cordelia had packed her thick gloves and a blanket she made great use of, quietly lifting her eyes in thanks to the sky for the maid who had gotten her to run out the window and flee.

Three young District 1 runaways huddled around a small fire, wrapped in their warmest clothes. They were quiet for a while before the roar of Glory's stomach distracted them. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

Calliope hadn't taken the time to realize how hungry she was, but now it felt like the hunger would eat her alive if she didn't have something soon. She and Tithe rummaged through their bags, Glory crinkled the package of an emergency ration bag like the ones they had eaten – and loathed – during the Survival Skills courses. Calliope pulled out a pouch of dried granola and had to stop herself from burying her face in it. Either way, she was eating it with her hands, but she decided all simple rules of etiquette didn't need to be abandoned just because they were in the woods.

Glory bit off a chunk of a nutrition biscuit and watched her, "I almost forgot, I grabbed something for you guys."

Tithe and Calliope paused in their ravenous consumption to look up at him. Glory held his biscuit in his teeth and half disappeared into his enormous bag. Finally, he pulled out a long, curved knife in one hand, secured in a leather holster. He handed that to Tithe, Tithe accepted the gift with a look of mild amusement. Glory dove back in, shorter on this trip, and emerged with what looked like brown leather suspenders attached to a belt.

Calliope took what he handed her and held it up. Two straps fit securely over her shoulders and a belt wrapped around her waist. At the small of the back were two leather holsters set in an 'X' for twin knives fastened hilt down for easy grabbing access. She slid her arms into it and secured the belt. The two knives it had been fitted with were weighted, good for combat or throwing, Their handles were crafted finely of steel with slender, carefully balanced handles. The blades themselves were identical. Nine inches long with a section that looked like it had been cut out in a small curved point, the edges on one side were serrated and lethal while on the other side smooth and curved and sharp enough to skin something with.

She let out a small laugh and reached around her back, flicking off the fastener for the straps and sliding the knives free in one swift motion, "Glory, this is awesome. Thank you."

Glory shrugged and pulled out a short, thick cudgel from the depths of his bag, "It's unlikely, but if we encounter anything out here it's better to be prepared than not. I tried to play to your strengths when I raided the Academy Armory," Glory looked apologetically at Tithe, "A mace is a lot harder to carry than you think."

Maces were Tithe's specialty, he had worked extensively with them in the Academy. Tithe shrugged and fixed the knife around his hips, "I get it. Harder to get a ball with spikes on it into your bag than something you can put in a belt."

Calliope sat back down and pulled her blanket back over her shoulders. She felt more secure having something to defend herself with. Weapons weren't supposed to leave the Armory at the Academy, Glory had risked a lot by bringing them with him. In her mind, she had already coveted the two blades whose comfortable pressure she leaned into. Now she felt safe, optimistic, and ready to travel.

They camped like this for three more days before reaching the mountain's base, Tithe and Glory hiking carefully behind Calliope and rigidly obeying her hand signals. Only once did they encounter trouble in the mountains, or at least they thought they did. Glory held his cudgel up menacingly and waited for Calliope to kick at the bush that started rustling on their path. A fox took off like a bat out of hell, zipping past Glory so quickly all he saw was a blur of orange. He couldn't help it, Glory let out an alarmed shout.

Tithe's laugh bubbled up and over like a wave, crashing down so hard he needed to sit and regain himself. Calliope leaned back against a tree and clutched her stomach against the fierce pangs of hunger and humor wrenching her stomach. Glory's face turned bright red and he tried to fight a smile at his own reaction.

"Ha ha, hilarious. Can we get a move on, fearless leader? We're almost there," Glory was referring to Calliope, their personal compass and map, when he said fearless leader. It was meant as an affectionate title at first, but Glory found himself meaning it more and more every time he said it. Tithe had started calling her 'captain' and frequently began the trek with 'Oh captain, my captain.' Another title meant to be affectionately humorous that had begun to take on a life of meaning.

Calliope felt her chest swell with pride every time they said it. She felt responsible for them. Without her this journey would have been over before it started, it was Callie's duty to keep them safe and to lead them to the mountain. She took it very seriously. Calliope had held the two men back while she approached the rustling bush, more prepared to risk her own life than the lives of her two men. Neither of them fought her, they obeyed whatever commands she gave them. It had started out with pleases and thank yous, but quickly turned into swift soldier's orders. Pleasantries were useful in the District, but out here it was act and react alone that mattered. Soon into their three-day journey they were looking to Calliope for direction and command. She called the shots with authority she hadn't realized she possessed.

_I guess the wilderness changes you,_ she thought, examining their situation one night on her watch. She was staring at the mountain which seemed to grow closer every day, like it was under a microscope that zoomed in with every step. Calliope watched the sleeping bodies of her friends and smiled.

Up in the base of the mountain, the air was crisp and cold with the impending autumn chill. Calliope paused at the top of a rolling hill and hugged the thick dark gray sweatshirt she wore around herself. She exhaled to see the puff of breath and turned back to shout down the hillside, "Hurry up! It's downhill after this!"

Tithe got to her first and collapsed onto his own pack while he fought for breath, shooting her a cold look, "You're a slave driver, captain."

"I'm a glutton for efficiency," she corrected him. He just gave her a tired frown.

Glory doubled over himself as he lumbered over the hillside and stared at the grass, "I'm sweating like a hog. How can it be so freezing cold and I'm sweating."

It wasn't a real question, but Callie answered anyway, "Nature."

The three of them stared up at the mountain now, it loomed in front of them ominously. Somewhere around here was a secret battalion of rebel soldiers. The thought made her giddy, excited for what was lurking just around the corner for them all. Now, if only they could find that corner.

They rested for a while, passing around a flask of water, a bag of granola, and two nutrition biscuits. Their food was growing thin, they had conserved meals wherever they could, but it was an unspoken worry they all shared. They didn't have three more days' worth of food with them and there wasn't an adequate stream for fishing in the area.

Calliope let them catch their breath for longer than she liked before looking at the sun rounding the two o'clock mark, "We better hurry."

That was that. Down the mountain they went, up the next hill, and finally into a forested meadow shortly before dusk when Callie ordered them to settle there for the night. Settle really just meant 'find a comfortable place to lie down'. None of them had really gotten a good night's sleep since the boxcar and they were too tired to build fires anymore. Calliope looked around the clearing a few times, something about it felt wrong. It was too deliberate, the area was almost too free of debris. She attributed it to paranoia at first, but couldn't manage to shake the feeling like there were more than three of them in this clearing.

"I'll take first watch," she said. Neither Tithe nor Glory fought her as they collapsed backwards on their packs. Apparently, the feeling of unease was one sided.

Callie found her hand resting idly on the hilt of one of her knives. She unfastened it and pulled it into her lap, taking another once over of the trees. She watched Glory fiddling with the small portable screen, but they hadn't gotten signal since the second night when the announcer told the Tributes two could win from the same District. Signal had been lost since then, probably for the better since a receiving signal meant a trackable signal. Glory put the screen away and rolled over to try and sleep. It took him only a few minutes before he had fallen into a deep sleep. Calliope watched them carefully in the fading light and listened for the sounds of their heavy breathing. Her body was alive with awareness, keen that the presence had grown in the forest surrounding them.

All these nights in the woods and she hadn't felt like this once. It wasn't paranoia, it was real. Something was in the woods surrounding them. Calliope was on her feet and pacing without realizing it. She circled her two slumbering companions and nudged Tithe – the lighter sleeper – with her foot.

He stirred and complained, "There is no way it's dawn," but his voice trailed off when he saw Callie's face. She was fixed on something, almost like she was hunting something in the darkness. Without another word, Tithe wriggled off of his bag and got to his feet in a low crouch, his hand securely on the hilt of his own hunting knife.

"Someone is watching us," Calliope's tone was so quiet he almost missed it.

"Where?" Tithe whispered back.

"Everywhere."

It was like an alarm had sounded when she said it. Lights beamed to life and small red dots spattered over them, dark figures moved silently behind the bright lights mounted on the sights of rifles. There were so many of them Calliope thought it had to be a nightmare. Glory thrashed wildly and got to his feet, struggling to lift his cudgel up to protect them. Calliope snatched the other knife free from its holster and shoved Tithe behind her.

The three of them had backed into each other, completely surrounded by the lights and red dots. Nobody spoke, not one of the obscured figures said a word. Calliope shouted first, "Who are you?!" she demanded.

No response.

"Who are you?!" she said again, "Come on, we're not afraid of you!" Calliope wasn't sure if there was fear in her, but she didn't feel any of it. She felt vicious anger surge through her limbs, her face was a mask of ferocity. It was true, Calliope wasn't afraid of them. It was probably idiocy or the fact that she had sometimes forgotten to be afraid when she should have been, but there was nothing fearful about her now.

Finally, the figures parted and one stepped into the light, unmasked so they could see him plainly. Calliope stared at the man and tried to find words for a moment. He was tall and slender, gray hair too long and tied back in a ponytail. His face was thin, lined with age and beaten with weather. He had a distinct nose, too large for his face and hooked like a beak, with small gray-green eyes that peered down at her in judgment.

He was wearing a thick black jacket with boots and dark canvas pants. This man had no gun, only a piece of fabric tied around his upper arm. It was probably white once, but age and woods had turned it a whitish brown color. Stitched into it were two letters that almost looked like an M and a W, but Calliope realized it was meant to be two Ms reflecting as though they were seen in a lake. She wasn't paying much attention to what he looked like, she was staring at the man with a look of bewildered revelation.

"Instructor Lark?" Tithe spoke into the darkness, sporting the same confused look Calliope was.

The thin man gave them a thin smile and lifted his thin hand. All of the scopes turned off and the red dots disappeared, the soldiers wielding them reached up to pull down scarves that concealed half their faces. Mostly men made up the crowd, but there were a couple of women alongside them, all armed with rifles or throwing knives or some sort of weapon. There were less guns than Calliope had realized, they were extremely hard to come by and ammunition was a whole different matter. They must have been all for show.

"Tithe," Lark inclined his head with a smile, "Glory, Calliope," Lark listed them off one by one and let his eyes take them in, "You've grown. We've been expecting you."


	8. It Moves

**A/N:**Welcome to the Magical Fastforwarding Chapter! It has the power to accelerate a story at TEN TIMES the speed of light while also making linear sense! Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and put your accelerated story time pants on.

**Chapter 8: It Moves**

_"Just when the caterpillar thought "I am incapable of moving," it became a butterfly." - Annette Thomas_

They called themselves the Mountain Men. It was fitting, considering their entire base was built into the thing. Apparently, it was called Elk Peak at one point, but now it was only known as Mount Lord. The entire mountain seemed to have been gutted and transformed into a city, accommodating the two hundred or so rebels that swarmed the busy halls of the honeycomb caves. Lark walked them through the wide path everyone called Main Street or Main for short, pointing out the barracks, the trading post, mess hall, armory, and the Pit. The Pit was where training happened and these guys trained for what seemed like every minute of every day that wasn't spent sleeping or stuffing food into faces.

Calliope had reluctantly handed over her knives to a woman with brown hair cropped in a short bob.

"Prudence," Lark called her, "Pru for short. She manages the armory, she is also in charge of assigning your quarters and making sure you receive proper training for now."

Callie was less prepared to hand over her rucksack and only did so when she was assured it would be returned in three months after they had finished their initial training. Lark had explained the system easily enough. They were essentially training to be soldiers, so they were treated as such. There was a period of time everyone called basic, followed by specialization, followed by advanced training. They would live, eat, and breathe combat under Lark's watch.

"It didn't used to be like that," his tone was distant and reserved, "but our hands are being forced by the Capitol to prepare for the worst."

"Why?" Tithe chirped from the back of the group. Pru, Lark, and two other high-ranking soldiers paused and turned to him.

One of the other soldiers, a large man whose muscled body seemed to be fighting the shirt that constrained it, raised a graying eyebrow sliced through by an old scar. He had several on his face, what parts of his arms Callie could see were littered with homemade tattoos. Lark had referred to the man as Captain Crowe when they first entered.

Crowe looked from Tithe to Glory to Calliope, "I guess nobody's told you yet. That District 12 girl is a favorite in the Capitol, but not of President Snow. Rumor has it he's upset by this two tributes deal Seneca Crane made. We anticipate retaliation."

Seneca Crane. The innovative game maker who was lauded by the public for his strategic move to keep the star-crossed lovers from District 12 together was under the scrutiny of Snow himself. It made Calliope shudder. Out here in District 1, in the mountain, they were safely tucked away from the events of the real world. At least that's what Calliope thought at first, but now they were talking openly about the events behind the Games. It made her feel too close to the Capitol.

"How do you know that?" Glory asked suspiciously.

"You have your connections, I have mine." Commander Lark smiled at him, a cross between paternal amusement and secrecy.

They continued, paused by the trading post, and were issued standard black and dark green fatigues. Callie was forced into the smallest size they had, much to the amusement of the older woman behind the counter, "You'll be the only one in that size. We can't fit anyone else in anything this small, you'll practically have a personal wardrobe."

Crowe smiled at the woman and leaned over to kiss her cheek before they walked away. Pru looked over at Calliope, "That's Aurea," her voice was sharp and short, she was very curt and seemed displeased they had taken on the three of them, "Crowe's wife." Prudence explained what she must, no more.

Calliope teased at the leather cover of a journal Aurea had stacked on top of her clothing, there was a pencil tucked into the spiral spine. She supposed quietly that they had nothing better to do and decided keeping a log of her time in the mountain was better than doing nothing.

Finally, they arrived at the barracks and Lark issued them their rooms. His initial intention was to separate Glory and Calliope, sending Callie into her own bunk in the very small women's wing. The protest Calliope gave him was almost inspiring to the other soldiers.

"Absolutely not. I came here because of him, I'm not leaving him just because you say so," she willed herself to radiate defiance when she met Lark's amused, calm eyes.

"Callie," Glory tried to calm her down, "It'll be fine."

"It won't be fine. You guys took all my stuff, you plan to toss me into some soldier lifestyle, and you want to turn me upside down in the span of a day. The least you can do is let me keep my friend," her eyes, posture, and expression gave the impression Calliope would never back down from this argument.

Tithe shook his head and lifted his new, dark green pack full of fatigues and followed Crowe, "Well I have no problem being separated from the herd."

Glory didn't stop Calliope as she continued, "Glory is the closest thing I have to family. It's great for you all to have each other, but I only have him. If I were a man you would place us in the same bunk."

"We would," Lark nodded, "But you are a woman, it isn't a question of letting go of your friendships. It's a matter of safety."

"Safety? Have you even seen Glory?" she gestured to him sharply, "I know him, he knows me. If anything happens, I will be well protected. The last person on the face of this earth who would hurt me is Glory. I'm safer with him than if you throw me into that pit of snakes." She was referring to the women's barracks.

It wasn't meant to be offensive, but Calliope's experience bunking with women had been tainted. The first two years in the Academy, children bunked in same-sex barracks, too. Calliope was an awkward youth when she first got to the Academy and had been relentlessly teased and tormented from eleven to thirteen. When her classmates realized Calliope was a better fighter than most of them, they had softened. It came partly from growing up and partly from needing something from her. Either way, Callie was not desperate to repeat the experience.

Pru shot Lark a look of frustration, but the look of amusement never faded from his face. He gave her a chuckle and put up his hands in defeat, "Fine. If anything happens to you, don't come crying to us or say I didn't warn you."

"Nothing will happen to her," Glory shot back so venomously Lark startled, "If she stays with me, nothing will happen to her." Glory repeated his words again, more gently. He was upset with himself for being so quick to anger.

Glory stood so close to Calliope's shoulder that she could feel his body temperature spike from embarrassment and frustration, "We will be fine."

"I can see that," Lark examined Glory closely for a moment before gesturing to one of the empty rooms. Two beds, twin sized, and two trunks were all that occupied it. An overhead lamp lit the room dimly, "You'll be here. If you don't seal your room and your things get taken, that isn't my problem."

They both unloaded their stuff onto a bunk and turned in time to see Lark walking away, carrying a low conversation with the other officer. Pru waited in the doorway for a moment, her stare cold and calculating on Calliope, "Be in the mess hall at 0600 or starve."

She placed a hand on a sensor panel and a frosted glass pane slid across the doorway, sealing the room. Calliope sat on the rather uncomfortable bed and looked around the small room, "Thanks for sticking up for me."

Glory nodded, laying down immediately on a bed that was much too small for him. He didn't complain, it was better than a forest floor any day. It took only a few minutes before he was out, he didn't even shove the bag on the floor.

Calliope stared at him for a moment before getting up and dimming the lights a little more so he could sleep. She wasn't tired, she was the very opposite of tired. Instead, Callie pulled out the journal and scribbled slowly.

_Day 1. _

_Settled into barracks. Their base is strange, it's just a high tech cave that feels like a military compound. I don't know what I expected. They're a militia. Sleep now, more later._

_Day 6_

_Basic training. Is. Awful. We've been up at 0600 every morning, we have fifteen minutes to stuff as much food into our faces as possible and then we run halfway up the mountain and back in full gear. I've been so tired I can't even write. The beds feel like a punishment, I would rather sleep on the floor. We watched the Hunger Games finale tonight. Katniss was willing to die to defy the Capitol rather than give them their Victor. I've never heard so much cheering in the hall than I did before they planned to eat the nightlock. Lark seems nervous for her, but he cheered with us. She's a rebel, just like me. Just like everyone in the mountain._

_Day 11_

_Their ranking system is strange. There are battalions of 50 under one Captain, leagues of 25 under a Lieutenant, and squads of 5 under a Sergeant. All 50 battalions have arm bands in a specific color with the M thing on it. There's Red, Blue, Green, and Black Teams and I think Black is their elite force. They're the guys who came and got us in the woods. The other guy, the grumpy one, Pru says his name is Grouse. He's the Black Team Captain, all the Captains meet in Lark's chamber like some inner circle. I want to be in the inner circle. Pru says everything is changing now, the rebels in the east are focusing on Katniss as a symbol. That mockingjay pin she carries around is everywhere, at least three of the new guys got it tattooed on themselves. Glory thinks if we don't have any tattoos we'll be black sheep, I don't care though. I like being a black sheep._

_Day 22_

_I can't remember being this tired. It's like they're trying to break us down or something. Running the mountain has become old hat, I can make it the five miles under 90 minutes, but it's the weapons training and the hand-to-hand training that's wearing me down. I've got bruises in places I didn't know I could bruise. I think Pru hates me. She's such a sourpuss._

_Day 25_

_The Victory Tour begins. They started in District 11. I can't describe it, but they let us break from Training to watch. Katniss is braver than I could ever be, to stand in front of the District and defy the Capitol by not pretending the Games aren't torture. I want to be that brave. I hope I meet someone like Peeta who I can look at with that much love._

_Day 30_

_We've been here a month if I'm calculating the days right. My training partner is some quiet guy Pru calls Orly. He's terrible. I don't know why she put me with such a bad sparring partner, but she says I'm responsible for his betterment so I guess that means I'm training him. They gave me two training knives today. Two, made of wood. I've been using one for weeks now, but Pru got some sense in her and gave me two. She's apparently the new recruit Captain as well as armory clerk and Green Team Captain. There are twenty of us in all who have been here less than two months. We've been watching CPN for updates on the Victory Tour and trying to hunt down news of the rebels. Something is wrong, they keep showing us footage of District 13. It's like they're trying to remind us they can lay waste to us if we follow District 12's example. All it's done in Mount Lord is created defiance. _

_Day 40 _

_I'm training four men in hand-to-hand now. Pru seems to give me this news through gritted teeth, I'm guessing it was Lark's request and not hers. They're all awful, but Orly is improving enough to show them basic stances. Glory requested to work with maces and heavy weapons. I haven't seen Tithe in two weeks, Pru says he failed basic already and has been moved to a different training class. Katniss and Peeta returned to their District today. Normally the homecoming is so warm and cheerful, but not now. Her District understands her, not like District 1 treating me like a pariah for being unsatisfied. She's lucky. _

_Day 55_

_The five men I've been training are now my squad. We play battle games, strategy and sparring tournaments and things. We're placing third overall, Glory is part of another squad but he isn't leading it. Pru called me a decent trainer today, I think that's the closest I'll ever get to a compliment from her. _

_Day 63_

_They pulled me out of basic early. Glory has to go the full 90 days, but Lark says I can't get any more out of it. They tried to move my bunk again, I don't think it's sunk in that I won't leave Glory behind if I can help it. We're not in the same training group, but it doesn't mean I'm going to abandon him. He would never abandon me. He's my family now._

_Day 65_

_They put me on Red Team. Crowe is my Captain, my Lieutenant is some guy named Torkin and my Sergeant is a slave driver named Scythe. I like Torkin, he's down to earth and reprimands Scythe when he decides to spontaneously punish his whole league for existing in his air space. I'm surprised he's ranked up to be honest, all that little man complex._

_Day 71_

_There's a strange guy here from the Capitol. He's an older guy, but he seems to wield authority. Everyone salutes him when he walks by so I started to also, I don't want Scythe to decide I'm being insolent. The guy screams so much it's a wonder the Capitol doesn't find him. I sat with Glory and his squad at lunch today, Glory said his name is Plutarch Heavensbee and he's some emissary for the rebellion. Lark is in talks to remain allies with – get this – District 13. Apparently it wasn't destroyed, they did what the Mountain Men have and went underground. Those ads are loops, old information. We aren't as small as I thought._

_Day 80_

_Scythe is trying to kill me. I know I said that Pru hates me, but I think she was just hard to make me better. I legitimately believe Scythe wants to cut my head off and put it on a pike. Lark requested I go to the northern crow's nest to take watch with him. I, personally, think it's because I'm amazing. Scythe has it in his head I'm trying to steal his job. I found out how I could do that, by the way. When a Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain, or the Commander die, their bands are passed to whoever they delegate in advance or whoever is with them when they fall if they don't have a successor picked out. All the Captains have black bands, Black Team actually has a black band with white trim. Lark's is white – WAS white, they usually make a new one rather than have the new Commanders keep passing along their band. The Commander only has one so someone can bring it with them if the Commander dies. They've only had one other female Commander in their history, Commander Azalea Fogg about fifty years ago. These guys have been living in the mountains for a century. This is crazy._

Calliope put her pencil down and got to her feet to stretch. They had given her back her bag as promised and her knives were fitted in their holsters again, no more wooden practice knives. She had changed into the black pants that were standard issue and a fitted, dark v-neck shirt. Her red arm band was tied securely around her bicep. She shrugged on a long coat and turned to bid Glory goodbye, but he was already asleep. Callie broke into a brisk jog and headed for the northern crow's nest. Watch was the responsibility of everyone, even the Commander.

Her eighty days with the Mountain Men had already reshaped her. Every inch of Calliope felt like it was hard with muscle, her reflexes felt sharp and honed. Every hour of the day that wasn't eating or sleeping was spent in the Pit training, she had been correct. The Pit was enormous, it held dozens of mats and firing ranges and throwing ranges. It wasn't high tech, no holographic targets, but it was sufficient. There was always someone there who could train you if you needed it in any aspect of combat and survival, it was like the very heart of the entire makeshift city was centered in the Pit.

Callie shot a few waves to the men in her battalion, all of whom she had become more familiar with. She was one of two women on the Red Team, the other was Aurea Crowe who didn't work with combat at all. Calliope had learned the teams handled all aspects of life here, there were persons unskilled or insufficient in combat that went to the kitchens or mechanical engineering or became medics. Combat wasn't everything here, but it was their hottest commodity if it was done well.

Tithe hadn't disappeared either, they were training him in aviation. It turned out he was a better pilot than he ever was a fighter, Tithe had left aviation basic early, too.

Glory had been given the chance to leave early, but he chose to stay and be a squad leader instead. It took him longer to reach squad leader than it had taken Calliope, but she seemed to thrive on this lifestyle. It was foreign at first, going from a plush and luxurious life to training as a soldier day in and day out, but she bloomed like a flower in it.

Callie took the steps up to the nest two at a time, pausing at the door to catch her breath. She turned the wheel that opened the heavy, thick steel door with clank and stepped outside into the cold night air. Lark was standing on the balcony with his back to her, a heating coil sat in the middle of the platform. The coils didn't give as much heat as a fire, but they were invisible to any hovercrafts doing a sweep.

Lark turned to her and smiled, gesturing for Callie to come over. She stood quietly next to him, shifting uneasily. Now that she had learned to treat him as her Commander, Callie was much more uncomfortable around Lark than she was when they got here.

"Are you happy here?" he said suddenly.

"Sir, yes. I am very happy, sir," it was too many sirs, but she didn't care. No amount of respect was too much respect for a Commander.

"Please, you don't need to be formal. I remember you when you first picked up a throwing knife," he smiled like he was sharing a secret with her, an inside joke only they shared. She smiled back and nodded.

"I am happy. I like it here," Callie chose her next words carefully, "But I find my Sergeant is a little…tenacious about his duties sometimes."

Lark gave her a short laugh, "Oh yes, I know he is. Scythe took over when his Sergeant was killed in a shootout with the Peacekeepers two years back. Not exactly _my _first choice for a successor, but I trust my men."

They were quiet, looking down the mountain towards the dim, glowing light over the hills that made up District 1's epicenter. Calliope tilted her head curiously, "Are _you_ happy here?"

Lark laughed again and turned to face her, "I love what I'm doing, I love what we are all doing. I wish I had a choice, but I don't. I can't say I'm happy. War isn't a reflection of who you are, but a reflection of who you must be. I love training and teaching, I do not love its context."

They went silent again for a while before Commander Lark spoke again, "Do you remember your father?"

Calliope was surprised, it wasn't a question she had anticipated. The subject was still sore, it would always be sore. She barely knew the man and her mother had refused to talk to her about it when she asked. Quietly she shook her head, "Not really."

She remembered snippets of things, a walk around the square, a tall wooden banister and a door opening, some birthday memory of a yellow-wrapped gift, never his face, never his hands. Ava didn't even have a picture of him in the house.

"Your father was a good man," Lark said matter-of-factly, "Ava doesn't like to remember him, but I do. He was my friend, I can't let his memory drown out like he never existed."

Calliope stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Instructor Lark had been close with her father, why had Ava never mentioned it? "Ava is good at ignoring things." She said bitterly.

"Do you even know his name?" Lark was looking at her, full of pity now. Callie shook her head and Lark's expression darkened further.

"He died when I was young. Like you said, Ava doesn't like to remember him." Why was he bringing this up? It was painful, she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Her curiosity seemed to be vying with her pain for dominance, but curiosity was easier to stomach than pain. Callie let it win.

"His name was Johan Cress. Your father was a jeweler, very good at his work, he had very nimble hands," Lark held his hands up with wiggling fingers as an example, "We went to the Academy together, we trained with some of the past Victors, Platinum and Peridot. Your father and I were very close growing up, it's why I pushed you so hard."

Callie had never forgotten Lark's intensity with her. She was certain she had done something wrong with how critical and rigid Lark had been training her. She smiled a little at the ironic twist of fate, "How did he die?" Calliope's voice was quiet and reluctant. She was surprised by her own question.

Lark's expression fell again into a sad smile, his eyes looking through her as though he could see the memory playing out in front of his eyes, "Johan left District 1 to come here with me. It was my fault he left you and your mother, but we both thought it was for the best. Our method for getting people out of the city and into the mountains wasn't as sophisticated then, it was because of what happened to Johan that I spent so much time fixing the system once I took over," he swallowed hard and met her eyes sadly, "Peacekeepers followed us into the forest. Johan told me to run and let him handle it, he was a great shot with a weighted blade and we had stolen a load from the Armory. I heard a gunshot when I was about a mile away. Johan never met me at the peak."

Calliope's grip on the railing of the nest was tight. She felt her chest tighten with it, her breathing became quick and irregular, spots flickered in her eyes, "My father left the District to become a rebel?" the voice felt disembodied, not her own.

"Yes," Lark said, trying to bring her back to reality, "Your father believed in our cause. I'm obligated not to do him wrong, especially with his own daughter in my care now."

"In your care," she repeated.

"I want you to train with my Captains. You won't be officially a part of a team or a squad, but you'll be trained by the best men I have available to teach you," Lark was watching her carefully, unsure if she would take his offer, "I owe it to Johan to make sure you survive what's coming."

Survive what's coming. It had become clear recently what was happening in the Capitol. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had become beacons of dissent, symbols of change. Together, they changed the system of the Games. Together, they defied the Capitol in front of everyone and lived. Together, they were unstoppable. It wasn't a surprise President Snow loathed them.

Calliope stared over the treetops for a few moments before nodding, silently at first, "What will Sergeant Scythe say?"

"He will hate you," Lark shrugged, "But I would prefer not to talk about it if we can help it. Let the rumors swirl, let people make up a scenario in their heads. It might be less upsetting than the fact that I'm favoring you over a life debt to your father."

They passed the rest of the watch period making idle conversation. Lark had been interested in how Orly and the others were fairing now that Calliope had gone on to a team of her own, Calliope was biting back questions about Plutarch Heavensbee and the District 13 rebels. Lark knew she was burning with questions about something, but it was more amusing not to ask and let her seethe with them. Someday Calliope would learn what she wanted to learn, but not now.

_Day 83_

_I've started training with Prudence again, but it's her directly now. She's relentless, I don't think that woman has a single weak point or exploitable movement. Trying to hit her is like trying to punch a cloud, she's so fast. Finnick messaged me through Lark today, he's a nice enough guy I guess. Someone in the grapevine said I was dead, apparently. I guess I would rather be dead than hunted by the Capitol, so I will accept that I have died. They haven't had a Victor come to the mountain in the last fifty years. The Victors are too closely watched and tracked, they can't come here without revealing where we are. Plutarch seems to be coming and going more often these days, his presence is of less concern to the Capitol. Pru says we're in overdrive preparing to leave the mountain and reconvene in District 13, there's rumor of war. She says Plutarch wants Katniss to spearhead a propaganda campaign, but he won't do anything about it until later. No idea what later means. _

_Day 91_

_I beat her. Weeks of being pummeled by Prudence and I finally beat her. If I stay low, she strikes too high and I can go in and take her out through her middle. They announced the engagement of Katniss and Peeta publicly, but I don't know about them anymore. I don't know if they're in love. Lark looks at them like an object, Plutarch looks at them like an advertisement. I think it's fake, they're in it for survival. Can you blame them? I wonder if Katniss has anyone she wishes she could be with instead. That cousin of hers isn't her cousin, at least Grouse says so. Maybe that's her guy. I don't eat with the recruits anymore, I have an official place at the Officer's table. Scythe definitely, definitely hates me. _

_Day 97_

_I still spar with Pru every week, I beat her more and more often. She told Lark I'm going to be better than her soon, but she doesn't know he told me. I'm training in knives with Grouse now, back to wooden training blades. He uses them like fangs and he's a juggernaut. Grouse could steamroll me, I'm pretty sure he's in such good shape he will live forever. I asked about his tattoo on his collar bone, but he doesn't like to talk much. Apparently Grouse is also the aviation instructor, but they banned me from training for piloting after I crashed the simulator before I left the ground. I suppose I can't be good at everything. Lark wants me trained in firearms next month. Glory is taking over as a Sergeant on Green Team, nobody said what happened but they offered him the band and he took it. His Lieutenant ordered him to leave our quarters and barrack with his men, but Lark gave him permission to move me with him. One of his men commented on me staying with him, it earned him four laps up and down the ridge so I hope it was worth it. It's not like that, not for us. He's all the family I have left now. _

_Day 111_

_GUNS. ARE. TERRIFYING. I hate them. I'm awful with them. They never shoot where you point them and one of them hit me in the face when it recoiled. I'm garbage with a bow, I'm garbage with a crossbow. Ranged weapons are stupid. This is stupid. I hate Crowe because he won't let me skip this._

_Day 113_

_Scythe called me a choice name at dinner today. Glory punched him in the face. Walked right up and landed a fist to the face. Captain Crowe took him away. It was worth it._

_Day 114_

_Glory is spending two days in detention for it and being reassigned. He isn't a Sergeant anymore, he's a member of the Personal Guard now. They follow anyone who needs an escort around the place and I guess that means me right now. There's so much tension, Scythe is a venomous and hateful little mole. _

_Day 115_

_Glory is back from detention. His uniform is different. They tried to shave his head and get the blue out when we got here, but I guess they've given up. All of the Personal Guard don't wear bands or belong to a squad, they're basically police. Scythe keeps trying to incite a riot on Red Team at my special treatment. I don't think he's rousing anyone, there's more respect for the soap in the bathroom than Scythe on Red Team._

_Day 116_

_Lark threw Scythe out of the compound. At least that's what everyone says anyway, Pru says he's incarcerated for a few weeks before judgment. Lark charged him with treason for attempting to incite rebellion. Rebellion within a rebellion is not tolerated. They have their own justice system and I don't want to get involved. _

_Day 120_

_Glory follows me around like a shadow now, he's always over my shoulder. He trains with the Guard when I train with Crowe, Pru, and Grouse. Crowe thinks I'm hopeless at anything requiring range except throwing knives, so we just drill that. Pru spars with me right after and by the time I leave her and go to Grouse I am so exhausted I want to die. The Captains are tireless, I've never met people who can go for so long in combat._

_Day 129_

_They announced the Quarter Quell. The only pool is the Victors from previous years. This isn't a Hunger Games, this is a purge. _

_Day 145_

_I met Plutach Heavensbee today. _

Calliope watched the craft dock and the determined looking, familiar faced man walk with purpose towards Lark's conference room. Pru paused in her training to salute him and helped Calliope to her feet. She jerked her head towards the room.

"Come on, Lark said he wants you there this time," Pru hadn't exactly softened to her, but she kept her opinion in a separate compartment from her duty. Prudence was a soldier through and through, she was born into the Mountain Men and she breathed combat.

The room was covered in screens, some fixed on the goings on of the Quarter Quell and others fixed on cameras in the Capitol itself. The room hummed with the sound of machines. Lark stood leaning against the wide glass table in the middle of the room, staring down into the image of a map of Panem with various markings all over it. She tucked herself quietly away in a corner, Glory silently appeared behind her as her faithful guardian.

Grouse and Crowe stood opposite Lark and Pru took her place to his left. Plutarch was an older man, not steeped in the opulence of the Capitol. He looked rather normal, like someone plucked from the countryside and planted in the Capitol rather than born there. His face was a picture of logic and reason, this man was skilled in game making and had made a return after the disappearance of Seneca Crane.

His eyes stopped on Calliope, "Hello," he had expected her, stepping forward to offer her his hand, "You can call me Plutarch if you wish." Glory shifted and seemed to become larger, his presence more imposing and apparent now. Plutarch's gaze flashed up to him as though determining how to use him to his advantage.

Calliope reached out and took the hand that was offered to her, "Calliope Cress," she had dropped Lightwood from her name. She wasn't a Lightwood, she never had been. Cress was a new start, it was a name she could make her own if she didn't already fit it. It was her father's name.

"Cress," Plutarch considered her and gave her a smile. It wasn't warm or welcoming, just a smile, "Daughter of Johan Cress, killed in combat fourteen years back."

Calliope nodded, "Yessir." There was no point in wondering how Plutarch knew about her father, everyone seemed to laud the sacrifice of Johan Cress in some way. It was surprising at first to have a notable father, but Callie had come to anticipate the measure of praise with which people heard her name in the militia.

Plutarch looked her up and down, gauging her, and returned abruptly to his position at the table, "I can control parts of the Games, it was my idea to have it be made up of Victors. Our allies in the Victor's Circle will take care of as much as they can. Not everyone will be too keen on our plan, nor is everyone going in a part of it. District 1 and District 2 are right out, not at all allied with us," did Plutarch's eyes accuse her for a moment? "But most everyone else is."

"We have reached out to a few of our Victors, some of them would be open to a revolution, but most demanded to know where we were and wanted us dead," Lark sighed and tapped the glass. The image warped into portraits layered over and over again of former Victors, "There are only two choices for a male Tribute from 12, only one for a female."

"Katniss is our priority, you leave that to us," Plutarch tapped the screen and zoomed in on District 12, "We are concerned about the fallout. Once we extract her from the Arena, Snow is poised to retaliate. Coin wants to bring your men out to 13 so we can have a stronger, united force. We are thinking we would send you through 12 to collect as many refugees as you can."

"Has Coin agreed to our demands?" Lark asked without hesitation. He was willing to walk away if their demands were not met, that much was clear.

Plutarch hesitated and considered his next words thoughtfully, "Coin agrees to leave control of the militia in your hands, barracks have been created separately for your people. We will supply you with no less than six eighty person crafts and three ten person crafts. You will have access to our weapons silo and facilities upon arrival."

"In exchange," Lark continued for him, "we will engage the common enemy on Coin's behalf and support her campaign for presidency upon success of the rebellion. We will embark on whatever missions Coin assigns and acknowledge her emissary or emissaries when they are given to us as comrades in these missions."

Plutarch's face broke into another smile, this one real and enthusiastic, and thrust a hand out for Lark to shake, "We have a deal, Commander Lark."

"When would we leave?" Calliope's voice sounded foreign, reverberating off of all the metal in the room.

Both men turned to look at her. Grouse shook his head at her with a sullen glower, Crowe watched her with interest, and Prudence eyed her indifferently.

"Five months from today," Plutach said plainly. It would be all over the compound soon anyway, telling Calliope wouldn't hurt. If Lark had allowed her in, she was trustworthy with secret information.

Calliope seemed to walk back towards her bunk in a daze. Five months. Five months and they would be bound for District 13, bound for the rebellion.

_Day 150_

_We train harder, the battalions are pushing formation and battle strategy. Everything is changing. Lark put me on Black Team and I have my own squad again. The men have already started calling me The Viper. It's better than Princess which was what they had been using. I didn't realize how well I had been trained until I started working with them. I will make them as good as I am. _

_Day 201_

_It's been fifty days since I wrote last. I've been too busy and too tired to write anything down. I didn't realize I'm considered a part of the inner circle, I also didn't realize my men were handpicked by the other Captains from their own battalions. Lark says this is just a test I have to pass. I'm not sure how I'm doing. _

_Day 203_

_Reaping Day. Gloss and Cashmere from District 1 are headed into the Arena. I may not care for them, but it's horrible that they're forced back into this. I turned 18 today. Happy birthday, me. _

_Day 205_

_The Captains didn't forget my birthday, neither did Glory or Lark. If I never drink again it'll be too soon. My squad is improving slowly. Nobody wants to spar against me when it comes to knives, but they gladly mock my failure to fire anything ranged. I feel like a part of them again, they trust my intuition and my decisions in a way I haven't experienced for so long. _

_Day 220_

_The parade happened today, we all watched it on the large screen in the Pit. None of the Victors smiled. Finnick was Reaped. It broke my heart to hear his name was drawn, I've been allowed to email him since I got my new squad. I don't think he missed a reply once before he left. He's not at all what he seems, he's much deeper than what the crooning fans think. I can feel darkness between Finnick and Snow, but he won't tell me anything. Annie got Reaped, too. Poor Annie, poor Finnick. Mags. What an amazing person, stepping in for Annie. I hope she lives._

_Day 235_

_Everything is moving so fast. I've been moved to Lieutenant, we went on a supply run and came under Peacekeeper fire. It was terrible, I've never taken a life before. I don't know if I did, I just threw the blade and know the gun stopped firing. Lieutenant Cord fell, he passed his band to me. This weight on my shoulders is huge. How am I going to be responsible for a league?_

_Day 236_

_Crowe sat with me on watch tonight and told me about the first time he killed someone. I had nightmares. He says that's normal, it'll pass. He said to remember what I'm fighting for and what the Peacekeepers are fighting against. It still feels cruel to kill Districters. It is easier to take over the league than I thought, Grouse says it's easy to do when the people you oversee respect you. I think he was saying I'm worthy of the rank. _

_Day 240_

_I was out of balance in the field today. I feel like I'm walking through mud. They made me talk to the counselor. I never thought the generic face of a Peacekeeper could haunt me, one I don't even know if I hurt. How did Marvel kill people without regard?_

_Day 245_

_I feel better today, no nightmares last night. Crowe took me on a walk around the compound and told me to carry the death with me, don't let it control me, but don't become calloused to it. The more careful I am in taking a life, the better a Lieutenant I will be. I will carry that death with me forever._

_Day 285_

_Extraction is moving in to collect Katniss and whoever else can be saved now. This Quarter Quell has been tragic and horrible, I can't wait for it to be over. We move out in five days to the extraction point and on to District 12 to collect as many people as we can. I'm tired of watching lives be taken. _


	9. C Is For Change

**A/N:**Like I said, I took some creative liberties and made some changes, but my goal was to tie two stories together and expand the world of Panem and the citizens of the Districts. Now I finally get to tie together everything I've been building up to. NOW YOU CAN ACTUALLY LIKE IT.

**Chapter 9: The C Is For Change**

_"When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings."- Dean Jackson_

Moving two hundred and change soldiers out of a compound was easier than Calliope anticipated. She paced the length of her own league and examined the soldiers under her command. The all wore black, only the white trim of their bands stood out. Her hair had been tied off over her shoulder where it fell below her ribs, longer than almost a year ago when she first came to the Mountain Men. If Calliope then had looked in the mirror and seen Calliope now, she almost wouldn't have recognized herself. She looked sharp and clear, her eyes gleamed with alertness. Every muscle fiber was hard and pliant under her skin. Callie had callouses on her hands from training and on her heels from running. Hardly a day went by when she didn't have a new bruise or cut on her body from an aggressive recruit or particularly competitive round with Pru and Grouse.

She lifted the black scarf over her face, concealing the lower half. An earpiece so tiny it was difficult to see was pressed into Callie's cheek. Lark's voice cracked in her ear, "Black Team, league two ready check."

Calliope peered down the lines of soldiers again and pressed her partially gloved finger to the light that let her respond, "Lieutenant Cress, ready."

And so Lark went down the line, team by team and league by league. Glory walked quietly behind her, her imposing shadow ever watchful over his charge. He took custodianship over her very seriously.

Callie jogged to the front of the battalion and stood off to the left of Captain Grouse, Glory followed. A dark belt riddled with small, sharp throwing knives was fixed over her left shoulder, her holster for the two hunting blades still securely fastened as it always was at the small of her back. Callie was clothed completely in black, black canvas pants tucked into calf-high black boots, a black tee shirt. Her band was comfortable in its position on her upper arm, only the dark red vest she had worn when they first arrived all those months ago wasn't standard issue.

Glory was a shadow, black and only black with half his face concealed by his own scarf. He looked like something out of a nightmare. Calliope didn't think it was possible, but he had gotten bigger somehow since coming to Mount Lord. Together, they were soldiers through and through. The pilots stood at the front as well, eight in total, all the top ranked in their class. Tithe stood in a dark green jumpsuit, rigidly staring ahead while Lark paced in front of his officers.

"Tonight," Lark's voice boomed, "We accomplish two missions. We convene with the rebel headquarters in District 13 and we evacuate as many civilians as possible from District 12. Do not fail," he emphasized each word individually, "If we fail, we will be the catalyst for slaughter. We will be responsible for the failure of the rebellion. Are you ready to fight with your Commander and purge Panem of the Capitol?"

The universal howl was quick and uniform, like a brief wolf's howl. All the Mountain Men raised their right fist and thumped it against their left shoulder, holding it there.

"If we die tonight, we die together," Lark mimicked the motion and then pulled his arm out to the side, fist still raised. The soldiers copied his salute and let out another short howl. Calliope felt her skin prickle with excitement, her hair was standing on end.

Lark lifted his hand and gestured forwards. They began to move down Main at a brisk jog, the thudding of steps like thunder echoing in the cave. The ranking officers moved together, followed by the Personal Guard and then the first league, second league. Red and Black team moved together, Green and Blue behind them. When they burst forward into the mountain air, it was so fresh and cool it made Callie gasp. She never stopped moving.

Grouse's voice buzzed in her ear, "Position A, spread and sweep, officers in front."

Callie fell back to where her troops were jogging and lifted her hand, producing a series of signals with it. She didn't need to look back, she knew the soldiers were following her orders religiously. They all spread out and moved through the forest. In six miles, there would be an expansive clearing behind the mountain and away from the Capitol. That was where District 13 promised to meet them with the hovercrafts so they could get out. Pilots from their own troops would take over, fly low into District 12, and get as many people out as they could.

Plutarch would be moving in to the Arena to retrieve Katniss and whoever else he could get to in a matter of hours. Now this was a race against time. As they approached the clearing like a black tidal wave flooding through the trees, Calliope looked around. She felt that same sense of alertness growing in her that she had the night the Mountain Men found them in the forest. Something was wrong.

"Captain," she spoke softly into her mic, "something's not right."

"I know, we're checking it out." Grouse buzzed back.

Crowe was in her ear, shouting suddenly, "Peacekeepers! Everybody, combat formations, move, move, move!"

Her feet moved involuntarily, she was sprinting as fast as she could towards the tap-tap-tap of gunfire. Glory emerged from a thicket of soldiers and followed her as quickly as he could, but she was faster than him with less bulk to carry. Callie was sliding through the underbrush down a slope towards the clearing. Peacekeepers had entered from the west, not brought by hovercraft. It wasn't a trap.

Calliope's only thought was to find Commander Lark. He had been probably one of the first to enter the field, that put him in harm's way first. She scanned the clearing and ducked her head to avoid notice. Her hands were on her knives, two small blades she flicked so quickly Calliope barely felt them leave her fingers. There was a cry in the direction she sent them, but she didn't pause to consider what was happening. She didn't think, only acted. The men around her were like a surging wave against the Peacekeepers. Their own gunfire was quick and precise. Bullets were scarce, only their best gunmen were permitted to pull a trigger while the rest of them got in close and forced the Peacekeepers into hand-to-hand combat.

Calliope weaved through the men until she hit the clearing. Bodies of Peacekeepers were scattered on the ground, they were pressing back in retreat. Only a few of the Mountain Men lay where they were, wounded but not dying. Callie spotted Lark in the field, reloading a pistol. She broke into a sprint towards him and sent another knife flying into the exposed neck of a Peacekeeper coming at him from the right.

Lark startled and turned to look at her, offering a grateful nod, "Lieutenant," suddenly, his arm reached out and shoved her to the side roughly when the crack of a gun fired. She stumbled and fell with a shout.

Callie rolled once before lurching back to a crouch and sending another small knife flying from her belt. There weren't many, she had to conserve and make every shot count. This one landed in the exposed hip joint of the Peacekeeper who fired at them. He screamed and tried to stumble away, but Glory emerged in front of him and a swift blow with his thick cudgel stopped him. She didn't stop to see if he was still moving.

Calliope looked over intent to yell at Lark, but screamed instead. He lay on the ground, convulsing slightly, fighting for air. The bullet hit him in the neck, blood was pumping from the severed artery in thick spasms. Callie scrambled, tripping over the wet grass, and grabbed his head. She pulled it into her lap and started pressing her hands to the wound.

"You're okay, sir, I've got this," she pulled off her band and used it to staunch the blood. Lark wheezed and gasped, his eyelids fluttering.

He lifted a weak hand to tug at his white Commander's band and tried to focus on her, "G-go," he sputtered, blood pushing itself past his lips and down his chin.

She shook her head fiercely, "I will not abandon my Commander. You'll be okay," she pressed the talk button on her mic, "I need a medic, I need a medic _now!_"

The mic crackled, "Negative, Lieutenant. Pursuing hostile force at this time, no medic available," it was Crowe.

"Captain, I need a medic, it's the Commander," Calliope's voice cracked and she tried again to stop the blood with her hands, "Come on, Lark, you can't die. You owe a life debt to my dad, you can't just back out on that."

Lark's breathing was shallow, his eyelids were heavy, he looked like a ghost in the grass. Lark reached up again and weakly pushed her hand off his neck, shoving his Commander's band into her fingers, "You…go…g-go now."

She stared at the band. The dying Commander shoved it at her again before his arm went slack. His eyes opened wide and he inhaled suddenly, his last breath was shuddering and slow. Lark didn't inhale again, his blank eyes stared up at the sky. Calliope sat where she was, dumbfounded.

"Commander, come on. Lark, don't go, not yet. We're getting a medic, come on!" she was whispering fiercely at him, shaking him. Her hands were on his chest trying to start his heart again. There was a gentle, familiar hand on her shoulder.

Glory tugged her away, "Callie," he said softly, but urgently, "We have to go. They can't send a medic. People are counting on us to be there."

Calliope shook her head sharply, "No! I can't just leave him here, they have to send someone. It's Commander Lark!"

Her voice seemed small in her throat. The soldiers were coming back from their pursuit, they were crowding into the hovercrafts and passing Lark's still body like it was nothing important. Callie looked up at Glory with bloodshot eyes, "What do I do?"

"You follow Lark's command and you get those people out of District 12. Come on," Glory took her elbow and got her to her feet, tearing her away from Lark's body into a brisk jog. They reached one of the ten person crafts. The District 13 pilot had been killed, but their own man was taking over the controls. Callie and Glory leaped into the open bay and the door closed slowly behind them. Her stomach lurched as it took off into the air, or was it with the memory of the dead Commander?

Calliope turned slowly, Glory had taken her straight to the Officers' craft. Her skin was ashen, her face drawn and ghostly. Her head felt light. She looked down at her hands and realized she was absolutely covered in Lark's blood. She held the off-white band weakly and stared at it, speckled with scarlet bloodstains drying quickly into a dark, ruddy brown. Callie looked up at the expectant faces of the Captains.

Crowe's face was set in a grimace, Pru was staring through her with empty eyes, Grouse was staring at the ground, none of them were willing to look at her.

Calliope didn't explain or go into detail, "Who is his successor?"

The silence was thick. Pru and Grouse looked at Crowe, Crowe gave a single, short shake of his head and fired back at them with a hard, warning look. Calliope said again, louder, "Who is Commander Lark's successor?"

Anxiety filled her now, she recalled the rules of succession. If one wasn't appointed, the person who was given the band took the rank. She looked around at them again and shook her head. All three of the Captains were staring at her, Glory watched his feet idly.

"Who is it? Who did Lark appoint?"

"Nobody," Crowe said, abruptly.

"But-" Pru took a step forwards to protest and Crowe's hand stopped her short.

"He never appointed a successor," Crowe said again, more clearly, meeting Calliope's eyes. Sadness was all she saw there, sadness and resignation. Callie stared back at him, not quite understanding what he was trying to say to her.

Her head spun, she had to sit down. Blood was soaking through her clothes and she could feel it on her skin. It made her itch for a hot shower, ache for a change of clothes. Calliope found one of the seats and took it, the hovercraft jerked as it changed direction and hit a draft. She lifted her hands and stared down at the bloodstained Commander's band.

"No," she whispered, "I'm not a Commander."

"I'm afraid you are," Grouse said carefully.

She looked up and realized their fists were resting on their left shoulders in a salute. Calliope let out a nervous, anxious laugh and shook her head, "No. No, one of you has to take over. I haven't even been a soldier for a year."

"Neither was Lark," Grouse said, "Three months and he was ranked up when the Commander fell."

Crowe was watching her, wordless. Pru's lips were pursed in disapproval and she said nothing, only the hard look of irritation was familiar. Calliope looked up at Glory and he stiffened, lifting his fist to his shoulder slowly. His eyes were sympathetic, but he didn't speak.

"Commander Cress," Pru said finally, her voice tight, "what are your orders?"

Calliope stood in the corner an hour later, holding onto a rail overhead. She had given the order to follow through and perform the evacuation in District 12. Tithe's voice cracked over the speakers and he advised them the firebombs had begun to fall. That meant Plutarch had retrieved Katniss and fled the Arena.

Grouse tied the white band over her arm and watched her with eyes full of sympathy, "It's terrifying. I was there when Lark went through with it, but he was one of the finest Commanders we have ever had." It was meant to be reassuring, but she didn't feel it. It wasn't that Callie didn't want to be Commander someday, but that was someday. This was now.

Finally, they felt the craft leap in the air again and were thrown into the sides. The crash of bombs sounded outside. Callie walked up and touched the external camera screen to life. It showed the epicenter of District 12, but where there should have been a city instead stood a path of destruction. Everything had burned. It was strange, it looked like it was days old, not recent.

Finally, the hovercraft's cameras caught up with the ship's position. The thick forest of District 12 was burning, people were flowing through the trees like ants panicked and screaming. The Capitol had started to bomb the forests, hoping to stamp out the refugees who had managed to escape the first wave.

_First wave,_ Calliope thought, _This didn't just happen. Did we just get lied to?_

She stalked quickly back to the bay and hit the button to lower the hatch, "We have to be fast," she said with as much authority and urgency as she could muster into her mic, "Get as many people out as you can, but don't put yourselves in jeopardy. We're here to help, dying isn't helping."

Grouse had handed her a new mic when he attached her band, it was open to all channels so everyone could hear her. It felt like all of the men knew what had happened and would act without questioning Calliope's authority. She felt grave, like she was looking down on the forest with different eyes. The wind was hard and whistling, she shielded her face against it while the craft lowered.

Something in Callie snapped into action, fueled by annoyance and need to get as many people as she could to safety, "It's taking too long to land, the fire is going to catch up to them," she took a few steps back and ran towards the lowered hatch. She leaped.

Grouse reached for her and shouted, "Commander Cress-!" but his voice disappeared into the wind.

She was falling through the air, weightless, fearless. Her feet hit the ground with a thud. Calliope ignored the sharp pain in her ankle and started to take off into the mass of people, "This way!" she shouted, "Get to the hovers! Come on, this way! Go, go!"

Callie was running through the trees, directing screaming men and women, crying children, all towards the glade where the hovercrafts had landed with bay doors open. Soldiers had spilled into the woods and were guiding people into the bays. Eight crafts were more than enough. Eighty passengers each were recommended for safety on the larger hovercrafts, but realistically they could fit almost a hundred and fifty. Not comfortably, but enough for an emergency evacuation.

A Capitol craft screamed overhead, she heard the crash and deafening burst of bombs in the distance. Callie's feet carried her faster in the soft dirt, the pain in her ankle throbbing now with each step, but she didn't stop moving. She raced towards the bombs and shouted directions at people, shifting the stampede of panicked masses.

A stick snapped behind her and Callie moved without thinking, pulling the knives free from their holsters at her back and whirling around. She locked fierce, defiant blue eyes with the jaded, determined gray of a young man, eighteen maybe nineteen. He was tall, hair brown and wild with running around in the woods, his skin was olive and tight over well-muscled and underfed limbs. He had a bow and arrow aimed right at her. The man was standing so close to her with it, the arrowhead pressed against her cheek. He could shoot it and kill her in a moment, but the victory would be pyhrric. Calliope's knife tip was pressing against his side. She would kill him as fast as he would kill her.

There was a young girl behind him, light hair tied in braided pigtails. Calliope's eyes glanced from her to the man in front of her, "This ends badly for us both."

"Who are you?" he said hotly, firmly. He didn't move the bow away from her, he was fixed hard on her face.

"Calliope Cress," she spoke softly and reassuringly, "I'm from the District 1 militia. We're trying to rescue you."

The little girl behind him looked at him pleadingly and plucked his shirt, "Gale-"

"Hush, Prim," he said gently enough without looking at her, "District 1 isn't a friend of the rebellion. Nobody told us you were coming."

"District 1 isn't, but my people are. They didn't have time, we're trying to get you to District 13," Calliope dropped the name like it might help. She glanced up and watched one of their crafts taking off, slow and pregnant with refugees. Another followed, "Those are our hovercrafts. We're taking your people out of here and if you stand and procrastinate like this we're going to die from smoke inhalation."

It was already stinging her eyes, his as well if the glassiness was any indication. The girl he called Prim coughed a little. Gale looked at the thick, black smoke rising on the horizon, a dark serpent rearing its ugly head, and back to Calliope. He shifted urgently, unsure if he should trust her. Finally, he dropped the bow and re-sheathed the arrow, "Fine."

"I've got a ship up ahead. Only the two of you?" Callie asked the little girl and she nodded, "We'll find your families when we get there, come on."

Calliope raced through the woods, heading back to where the Officer's craft was lowering itself when she leaped out of it. It was there, the three Captains and Glory paced anxiously with their automatic rifles on alert. Finally, she burst forwards from the trees and ushered Gale and Prim in front of her, "Get in the craft, hurry!"

The fire was spreading, another Capitol craft screeched overhead and they heard the drum of firebombs. Calliope looked back one last time before hauling herself into the rising craft behind her Captains. Glory took her hand and pulled her the rest of the way inside, he hit the large red button to close the bay. Finally, Calliope turned and faced the young man and the girl.

Pru was fastening the girl into a chair and taking a seat herself, Grouse and Crowe had already strapped in and Glory stood patiently next to her. The man, Gale, was watching them all from the corner. His expression was distant, twisted into evident distrust.

Callie watched him for a moment before Pru drew her attention away from him, "Commander, what are your orders from here?"

She shrugged, "Get to District 13, figure it out from there."

Pru gave her an annoyed look, "That's a terrible order."

"What else do you want me to do? I've been doing this for two hours. I know as much about commanding an army as you do, but if you've got better suggestions I promise I'm open to them," Calliope's voice was sharper and more irritated than she had anticipated. She felt bad for snapping at Pru, but she didn't back down.

Pru turned her eyes to the ground and stayed silent, still painfully evident that she was irritated by all of this. Callie took a few shaky steps forwards, the sharp pain in her ankle was catching up to her now, and she smiled awkwardly down at the little girl, "Are you doing okay?"

"She's fine," Gale answered for her, arms folded tightly across his chest and expression cold, "How did you find us?"

"We were ordered here by District 13. It was a stop we were making on our way to them," Calliope tried to sound pleasant, kind, willed him to ignore the fact that she was from District 1 since it seemed to be the fuel behind his distrust.

It didn't work, "So you knew they burned us to the ground and, what, you wanted to make a flashy entrance? Like we would worship you as our savior?" Acidic, full of venom and spite, Gale practically spit the words at her.

"No," Callie frowned and tried to find a diplomatic way to respond, "It was anticipated, but we couldn't leave before then-"

"Anticipated, you knew it was coming and you let us die. I lost friends," he took a step forwards and raised his voice, "people I loved, cared about, because you just sat there and _anticipated_. We were waiting for help in that forest for three days and you decided to wait until we had been razed to do anything about it."

Glory stepped out of the shadowy corner and put his hand on Gale's chest, pushing him back with a light yet forceful shove. He reached up and pulled his scarf down so Gale could see his cold, drawn face, "I will toss you out the hatch and wish you good luck if you do that again," Glory's voice was so calm and leveling, it seemed to break Gale's concentration. Nobody would dare to call Glory's bluff.

He pushed Glory's hand off of his chest and pointed at her, "I hold you responsible for everyone that died."

Calliope's eyes narrowed, hard and spiteful at him. She had risked her men, her own life, to come and pick up this ungrateful ass. Her Commander had died trying to get here and save them. District 13 was always secondary, why didn't he get that? She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from snapping back. If she was to be Commander Cress, she had to control her temper.

_Three days, _Calliope rolled it around in their head. The militia could have left three days sooner, why had the order been to delay? It sat unpleasantly in her mouth to think about, but she dismissed the delay as bad communication after a few moments

Callie leaned back and reached down to touch her ankle. It was swollen and painful to the touch, she hissed when she squeezed it and hopped backwards, lowering herself into a seat.

Crowe got up and stood in front of the young man, "What's your name, boy?"

"Gale Hawthorne," he spoke with a voice full of authority and self-inflation, he was probably the closest to a leader they would find among these District 12 refugees.

"And you, little miss?" Crowe gave his kindest smile to her and it still came across as too weathered and forced.

"Primrose," her voice was small and quiet, "Everdeen."

Calliope's expression perked up and she looked at the girl. It was true, the little girl looked familiar. So did Gale, come to think of it. Calliope had watched the interview with him earlier that month claiming to be Katniss' cousin. She looked from one to the other, "You're Katniss' sister, you're her…cousin." Calliope hesitated. It could be true, they looked similar enough, but his dark scowl told her otherwise.

"Yes," Prim chimed, cheerfully trying to cut the irritation in Gale's face, "She's my sister. Gale's her friend."

"She's being taken to District 13 as well, you should be able to meet up with her there," Crowe said, helping Prim to ease the tension.

Gale's eyes moved from Calliope to Crowe and his expression softened, but he didn't say anything. He was handsome, now that she had the chance to see him sans scowling face. His body was poised to strike at any moment, he was tense and worried. Everything about him was defensive over Prim, he would readily take them all on if they tried to hurt her. Katniss' name piqued his interest and he seemed to freeze in the moment.

She looked up and Glory stood in front of her, dropping into a low crouch. He pulled her boot off gently and she let out a soft cry, "Careful!"

"You jumped out of a hovercraft. I'm not the one you should be giving tips to," Glory shot her an amused, reprimanding look and turned her ankle in his hands. His fingers were soft against the rapidly swelling skin, he touched it as gently as he could.

She hissed again, snatching her foot away, "Stop that!"

"You sprained it," he brushed his hands off and stood up, "You're lucky it isn't broken, but it's going to hurt like hell for a few days."

Calliope frowned and kept her narrow eyes on him, letting her cold fingers soothe the injured limb for a moment. The craft was quiet, she found herself watching Gale and Prim while they traveled. It was mostly with curiosity that she observed them

Calliope couldn't tell if Gale hated her for not coming sooner, or he hated her for being from District 1. The venom with which Gale had said both had stung, much to her surprise. She hadn't ever assumed being from District 1 would taint her to her fellow rebels, but it appears it did. District 1 had been catering to the expensive, opulent whims of the Capitol with the benefit of living like them for a long time. District 12 was poor, painfully poor. They were bound to hold malice for anyone from District 1 who claimed to understand their plight. They didn't have time for that right now, though. This was a rebellion, anyone who would fight for the cause should have been perceived as an ally whether from District 1 or District 10.

Calliope tried to rationalize his hatred, the way she assumed a Commander would. She was stubborn, though, and was struggling internally to not return Gale's instinctive malice just because she could.

Glory leaned down to her and spoke quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Hm?" she looked at him, then down at her clothes, still covered in dried, rusty blood. Callie felt sick looking down at it and remembering where it had come from, "Oh. No, actually, can you get me new clothes?"

Glory pulled a bag from the overhead, Calliope's bag he had been carrying from the compound, and rummaged through it. He handed her a clean pair of pants and a new tee shirt, dark blue this time. Calliope pulled her shirt and vest off, pale skin striking in the dim glow of the hovercraft's lights and screen. Glory stepped in front of her and cleared his throat, rolling his eyes.

"What? You handed me clothes and expected me to change…where?" she quirked a sarcastic eyebrow at him, gesturing around the small and sparsely populated craft.

Callie ignored the blood that had seeped through the fabric onto her skin, ignored the feeling that she needed to soak her body in bleach to stop the feeling of being covered in it. She would deal with that later. For now, a new shirt and new pants made her feel like a new person. She tossed the bloody clothes into a plastic bag and back into her pack. Pru watched her carefully as Callie took a seat and strapped herself in, running slender fingers through her tangled blond hair. She pulled out flecks of dried blood, some sticks, and finally looked at Pru.

"Decorum," was all Prudence said, a look of disapproval that seemed permanent on her hard features.

Calliope scowled at her and did the only mature thing she could think of, she stuck her tongue out at the Captain. Prudence shook her head with a dark frown and reached out to smack her shoulder.

Prim stifled a laugh as she watched them, Calliope shot her a friendly wink. The friendliness evaporated when Gale stopped the whole interaction dead in a single frown. Callie turned her attention back to the screens and watched the rapidly moving forest below.

Gale Hawthorne watched her now, carefully. He seethed with frustration, annoyance. They sent someone from District 1, practically on the doorstep of the Capitol, to come and rescue them. They sat idle while he had pounded on doors, waited at the trees for everyone he could find to get out and into the woods, watched people die from wounds or direct bombings. Gale had found Prim lost in the throng of people when the forest bombing began and grabbed her, kept her with him. Peacekeepers hadn't even landed their hovercrafts, they just swept in and dropped sheets of bombs on the District.

This girl was supposed to be their Commander. She couldn't be older than eighteen at best, she barely reached his shoulder, she was swimming in her own clothes. Their Commander was a child, she looked like she was going to fall out of her own skin if she had to give an actual command. This had to be a joke, this was ridiculous. Commander Cress represented absolutely everything about the Capitol Gale hated right now, but here she was leading the charge like some sort of white knight.

It made Gale hate Calliope more.

The hovercraft shuddered and pulled into a hangar built into the earth an hour later. It hesitated between the rows of larger crafts before touching down. People outside were being ushered off the larger hovercrafts and the District 1 soldiers lined the rows of people, sending them the direction another division of foreign soldiers had indicated. Calliope got to her feet slowly and went to take her pack down. Glory stopped her and took it for her, along with his own.

"I'll get this," he said with a slight smile, still somewhat proudly sporting his streak of blue hair. It was a token of where they came from that made her stifle a smile.

Callie sighed, "Fine." It had been the pain in her ankle that succumbed to his offer. She didn't really want to carry something on that foot right now.

Their pilot opened the bay and stepped into the cargo cab where they were carried. He was an older gentleman, probably an aviation instructor, who looked at Calliope with consideration before lifting his fist to his shoulder. She reluctantly repeated the motion and pulled her fist back, just like Lark had. The pilot copied her and dropped his hand, waiting uneasily among the Captains.

Gale unbuckled Prim's belt and helped her to her feet, but they waited for the Captains and Commander to move first. Pru, Grouse, and Crowe walked in front of Callie, Glory before her. Gale and Prim walked carefully behind them, Prim tucked into his side.

A voice rang out, a woman tall with gray hair walked towards them flanked by a cluster of soldiers in a mess of green fatigues, "I need to speak with your Commander."

The Mountain Men all seemed to hesitate, looking back towards the Officer's hovercraft. Calliope walked towards the source of the voice and pushed past her escorts. They parted easily enough, leaving Gale and Prim paused at the edge of the ramp to watch what happened. Calliope walked up to the older woman with as much purpose as she could muster and thrust out a hand, "Commander Calliope Cress."

It felt stupid on her tongue, foreign and silly to say, but she tried to keep her authority around her. The woman peered down at her hand suspiciously, refusing to offer her own, "Where is Commander Corrigan Lark?"

"Commander Lark perished during our evacuation. His authority passes to me," Calliope kept her hand extended patiently, but clenched her teeth and tried to stop herself from feeling snubbed. Naturally, this woman would be alarmed at an abrupt change in command. At least Callie was trying hard to convince herself of that,

"Oh," she raised a slender eyebrow and delicately shook Callie's hand, "I am sorry to hear that. President Alma Coin. Welcome to District 13."

"A pleasure, ma'am, thank you for your hospitality," Callie nodded at the large, dark skinned man behind Coin and took in the rank of soldiers she had brought with her. It was a show of force, they were being reminded who's house they had entered.

"If you could follow me, I will debrief you. Plutarch Heavensbee is already here, waiting," Coin turned without waiting for a reply and walked towards the entrance of the hangar, men saluted her wherever she went. Calliope's forces did not.

Callie followed her with her Captains in tow, Glory her faithful shadow. Gale and Prim waited at the end of the ramp before he picked Prim up and chased after them, "Hey!" Gale called.

Callie paused and turned to him, "What?" her tone was flat. She was feeling suddenly overwhelmed with everything. It was easy enough to play Commander on the hovercraft, but an entirely different game when it came to actually commanding.

"I want to see Katniss," his expression struggled with irritation and urgency, "Take me to her."

"You'll have to ask one of the guys in green, anyone with a band is mine. We've spent as much time here as you have, I don't know where she is." Calliope tried to balance authority with empathy. It didn't work.

"You're here to rescue us and you've never been here?" she shrugged in response, "You're a waste of time." Gale didn't wait for a reply this time, he turned and headed for one of the men in green fatigues. Prim seemed to watch Calliope over his shoulder, offering her an apologetic frown.

"He's a pleasant gentleman," Glory mused.

"Just like a cactus or a Venus flytrap make pleasant houseplants," she sighed heavily, ignoring the feeling of exhaustion trying to nudge its way into her bones.

The group continued on, jogging to catch up to President Coin. They followed her through a maze of hallways and underground city passages, not passing very many people on their way in. Calliope was desperate to look around, find out what was happening with her own men, but they were moving so fast she didn't have time.

Finally, she switched the channel on her mic and touched the light, "Can someone find out where our people are please?"

"I'm on it," Grouse splintered off from the group and doubled back the other direction.

Finally, they stopped moving in front of a large set of steel doors. Alma Coin opened them and turned to gesture Calliope inside, "Just you, no officers."

Glory frowned and made a disgruntled noise, "She doesn't go inside without a guard."

Calliope looked up at Glory and into Alma's face. Coin wouldn't look at Glory and waited for Calliope's assent, "He stays with me."

She entered the room behind him and Coin closed the door. Plutarch and a handful of other men Calliope did not know sat at a horseshoe shaped table. Screens flickered and moved on the walls, the table was alive with images and messages. A 3D replication of the Capitol stood in the center of the horseshoe. Plutarch was watching her.

"Lieutenant Cress," he said with a slight nod, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Commander," she corrected gently.

"Oh?" Plutarch raised his eyebrows, "What happened to Corrigan?"

"He died in the field," recounting the story so much made her throat tight, she didn't like recalling the image of his face stiff with death, "He passed command to me."

"Hmm," was all Plutarch offered before turning his eyes back to an image on the panel in front of him.

The dark-skinned man with Coin gestured to a chair, "Commander Cress, if you will."

She watched him carefully and sat in the chair, Alma Coin took a seat between her and Plutarch.

"We discuss the purpose of Katniss Everdeen at this meeting. We also solidify the agreement made with the District 1 milita arrived today," Coin looked around at the others surrounding the table, "Let us begin."


	10. Smoke on the Horizon

**A/N:**I took a hiatus, I'm writing a few other things unrelated to my dorky need to write fanfiction. I mostly like filling in the gaps for THG. There was a lot of stuff that never got talked about and, if you haven't noticed, I am trying to fill it all in. Now I get to ramp ish up, my set-up is done and I can actually start writing the bangarang parts!

**Chapter 10: Smoke on the Horizon**

By the time their escort showed Calliope and Glory to their barracks in the reserved wing, everyone seemed to already be asleep. The lights in the hallways had been dimmed, there was no noise behind any of the doors that she could hear. Crowe and Pru sat on the floor in front of the Commander's quarters playing some game involving dice. When Pru spotted Calliope she got to her feet and lifted her fist to her shoulder in a salute, Crowe followed.

"Commander Cress, the barracks have been assigned and the men were advised to take advantage of a reprieve day tomorrow," Pru said quickly. Callie hadn't authorized the reprieve, but she agreed with Pru's choice.

"Sounds good," her voice was hoarse from talking, sometimes shouting, for two hours. Or was it three? No light or clocks made it hard to track the time. Exhaustion had gripped her probably an hour ago, but Callie powered through it. Her ankle was pounding, her head ached, her whole body was as sore as it was when she first arrived at the militia. All she wanted was sleep, the hallway floor was starting to look appealing.

Crowe glanced at Pru and back to Calliope, "We are quartered down the hall, four doors down if you need anything."

"Uh huh," Calliope ran a hand through her hair, still tangled, and sighed tiredly. She didn't say anything else, just shoved the door open and flicked on the lights.

They blinked to life overhead. Calliope rubbed her eyes against their brightness and took in her new quarters, luxurious compared to the barracks in the mountain. She had a real room, a bathroom that she didn't need to fight with a hundred other men to use for more than three minutes, and a bed that she could actually fit on. There were a table and chairs tucked off into the corner and a large screen that functioned as a window, changeable to suit whatever sight she wished to see. Her pack was resting against a large trunk at the foot of her bed, there was a second and much smaller cot set up in one of the empty corners, Glory's pack rested on top of it. Callie smiled sleepily, her Captains had outdone themselves. She made a mental note to thank them, but right now all she wanted was to sleep.

Glory exhaled loudly and fell forwards onto the cot, it strained audibly under his weight. They didn't speak. Calliope just lay down quietly and listened to his heavy, deep breathing as he slipped easily into sleep. Glory could sleep anywhere in a matter of seconds, it was unfair.

Callie lay in bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. It was strange, she had been foggy with exhaustion until she hit the mattress. Maybe it was the foreign accommodations, maybe it was the stress of the day, but whatever it was had started preventing her from sleeping when she was wiped out.

She got up and quietly started the shower, peeling off her clothes and stepping into it. It had been a long time since Callie had taken a shower with consistent hot water, she had been prepared for it to go cold after a few seconds. She stared down at her naked body and in her mind's eye could see the bloodstains Lark's severed artery had left behind on her skin. She frowned and lifted a stiff bristled brush from one of the shelves. Callie scrubbed her skin hard, rinsed, scrubbed again, rinsed. She scrubbed so vehemently and so intensely skin started to peel on her stomach and thighs. Finally, when just the hot water burned the raw skin, she put the brush down. She stood under the water, slowly inching the temperature control hotter and hotter, before shutting it off. Shampoo in her hair had been a luxury, conditioner even more so. Calliope felt like royalty with such amenities, ignoring the fact that a year ago her life had been a long list of amenities like this.

She was quiet stepping out of the shower, slipping into a pair of black standard issue pants and a green tee shirt that dipped in a low V. It was meant for a male soldier, on a female soldier it looked flirtatious. She was quiet rummaging into her rucksack, tugging free a short sleeved gray sweater and zipping it up only halfway to compensate for the indecorous plunge of the neckline. Her feet slid quietly – and painfully – back into her boots, the door gave without a sound under her hands and she slipped out into the silent hallway.

By the time Calliope got to the main hall, she realized it must not have been as late as she thought it was. Her people must have been completely wiped out to be asleep so soon. The rest of District 13 buzzed with foreign activity, people murmured in the hallways and inflated, enormous common areas, they darted in and out of the main foyer like ants in a hill. It reminded her of the mountain in a lot of ways, active and underground. There were some tables on the lower level, Grouse was seated at one chatting with his Lieutenants. One of the Sergeants had been moved up to fill her place. They all saluted her firmly, Calliope returned it and took a seat with them.

She was looking around, distracted, before she realized Grouse was talking to her, "Huh?"

"I asked where your little shadow was," Grouse looked amused, which was both a foreign and kind of eerie look on the normally firm man.

"Oh, he fell asleep. You know Glory, the man could sleep on a flight of stairs in the middle of a marching drill," Callie rolled her eyes and a few of the soldiers laughed nervously. She frowned, "Please don't do that."

"Sir, don't do what, sir?" answered the Lieutenant who had taken her place.

"Laugh because I'm the Commander. Also, one sir is fine. One sir in the entire conversation is even better," Callie smiled as reassuringly as she could through her sleepiness. Now that she was around people, the exhaustion seemed to be returning.

Finally, she got to her feet, "Do you know where their Pit is?" Callie was tired of making them nervous, she was tired in general.

Pit would still be the term everyone used for it from her ranks, it was old hat. One of the soldiers gave her vague directions and she waved her thanks, trotting briskly up the metal stairs and down one of the dim hallways. She arrived at their training pit after a few wrong turns. It wasn't dissimilar from the one in Mount Lord, built lower so anyone wandering above could stop and watch a match. A few of the Mountain Men were training, nothing intense. Some were running laps around the top of the training ground. All saluted Calliope as she passed through, she dispersed their fists with a casual wave of her hand.

Callie spotted Tithe, sitting against the rails with his feet dandling over the ledge, and sat next to him to do the same, "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Commander," Tithe saluted her briefly, "Yeah, I've been hidden in the soul-sucking pods they call 'flight simulators'. We finally found something I'm good at, I guess, but it's a shame I have to basically live in an egg and try not to crash planes," he turned to look at her with a grin, "I heard you didn't even get off the ground before you crashed it."

Calliope recalled the memory sheepishly, "Yeah, they decided pretty quickly that I wasn't exactly a premier pilot."

"The pod you crashed was actually broken. You literally crashed the pod, not just the simulator," Tithe's voice was steeped in amusement, he wasn't letting her new rank change their friendship. Calliope appreciated it.

"How was I supposed to know not to thrash around when I thought I was going to die? It's really their own fault for putting the thing on a ledge,"her voice was strained with excuse. Tithe laughed and Callie felt it infect her, laughing along with him, "At least I left behind a pretty hard to beat legacy."

"You're all about silver linings," Tithe turned his attention back to the trainees and lowered his voice, "I heard you were there when we lost Lark."

Calliope's throat went tight again, she only nodded. Tithe didn't ask for an explanation or elaboration, he just let her hold the memory in her mind for a while. Finally, Calliope got to her feet, "I have to sleep. They want to strategize again in the morning, some of the Victors were captured and there's talk about whether or not the risk-reward is great enough to go get them."

"Goodnight, Commander," Tithe said without looking or saluting her.

Calliope got to her feet and stretched so quickly that it could have been the stretch that lifted her to her feet. Her body still ached, her ankle was calming down. She walked slowly through the halls, taking in her surroundings. Getting lost had not been very hard at all, Callie had just stopped paying attention to where she was going and suddenly realized she had no idea where she had ended up.

"Crap," she muttered to herself, looking around. There were no mountains, no trees, no familiar landmarks, nothing to help her clearly identify which way the militia's barracks were. Calliope decided to knock on one of the doors and deal with the consequences later.

She put her fist gently on the first door she saw and, to her surprise, it opened. Calliope stepped back a little, but peered into the dark room after a moment. The lights were dark overhead, dim screens lit up the darkness and appeared to be monitoring someone laying on a hospital bed. She took quiet steps inside and jumped when the door hissed closed behind her.

The only noise was the gentle influx of breath and the beeping of a heart monitor. Calliope tried to be still, to respect the quiet darkness of the room, but curiosity took over. She paused at the bedside and looked down at the sleeping face of a girl, no older than seventeen. Her brown hair was in a tight braid over her shoulder, her skin was olive, her face so recognizable now Calliope could have done it in her sleep.

Katniss Everdeen was asleep – maybe unconscious – in the bed in front of Callie. Callie didn't move or speak, just stared. It was like looking at a statue of the person you most admire, you don't want to touch it or disturb it, all you can do is stare at it.

Something rustled by Katniss' feet and Callie's hand flew to the empty space at her back where she normally kept her knives. She held her breath for a second before realizing it was Gale, doubled over and asleep at the end of the bed. He was lifting his head and rubbing at his eyes, groggy. Gale's face paused on Calliope's and they locked eyes for a moment. Sleep seemed to visibly fall away from him and his expression dropped into an unfriendly frown.

"What are you doing in here?" Gale rose to his feet and grabbed her elbow, "You aren't allowed in here, get out." He only spoke to her in a sharp whisper, if it had been somewhere else this would probably be a yell.

Calliope jerked her arm away from him and narrowed her eyes, "The door accepted my signature. It seems someone else thinks otherwise."

Gale wouldn't look away, he froze in the moment are stared at her. His eyes were hard and full of irritation and something else, something dark. The door opened again, an older man with disheveled hair stepped through and paused when he looked up.

"Can I help you two?" he said curtly.

Gale broke his stare and looked up at the man, "She was just leaving."

Haymitch shot Gale a warning look and stepped forwards to get a better look at the intruder's face. His eyes searched her face for a moment, the faintest hint of recognition flashed across his eyes, "The girl from the party."

"Calliope Cress," she nodded at him affirmatively and extended a hand for Haymitch to shake, "Nice to see you again."

"You weren't Cress last time. And your hands weren't this rough," Haymitch didn't wait for a response, "I'll show you back to your wing."

They walked in silence through a few hallways, Callie tried to remember their path so she could find her way back here later. The door had recognized her print signature, obviously she had some measure of right to be there.

"This place is confusing. It doesn't feel right," Calliope said quietly. It was still enough in the halls now that she didn't need to be too loud.

"It just isn't your home," Haymitch said bluntly. He looked over and down at her, "What are you doing over here anyway?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't sleep. I know I need to, it feels like this day has gone on for weeks. I just tried to lie down and couldn't."

He nodded with a sense of understanding, he knew what it was like to put his head down and feel his consciousness hover over him like a ghost, "He doesn't like people coming near her when she's like this. He sees you as a potential threat, don't take it personally."

"I never have," she smiled with a note of bitterness, "I just didn't realize how much everyone hated my District. I mean, we have an entire splinter cell of rebels we tucked away in a mountain for goodness' sake."

Haymitch let out a short laugh, "I think you'll find that doesn't always matter," he lifted his chin to indicate a figure looming by the wide and suddenly familiar entrance to what must have been the barracks for the Mountain Men.

Glory was waiting for her, his eyes emotionless and calm, leaned casually against the wall. Calliope felt herself blush, she felt like a kid who got caught in the cookie jar. She paused and turned to Haymitch, extending her hand to be shaken.

"Thank you. That probably won't be the last time I get lost," her lips twitched into a friendly smile and Haymitch gave her hand a single hard squeeze.

Callie was effortlessly passed into Glory's care, but he didn't scold her. Callie had expected to be lectured for wandering off, but then she remembered she couldn't be given orders to anymore. That included scolding. Part of her was relieved, but the other part only felt a sense of stolen experience. She was eighteen, she was supposed to be scolded and yelled at. It all felt complicated again, so she turned off these feelings and walked quietly beside her guard.

"Where did you go?" Glory asked softly, trying not to sound like he was reprimanding her.

"I got lost, wound up in the medical wing I think," Callie shrugged and kept herself casually level while she spoke, "Katniss Everdeen is here. They apparently brought her right to District 13 after the Arena was blown up."

Glory nodded once and let her into their room first, "Are you okay?

"

Calliope didn't answer right away. Instead she pondered the question before settling on her honest response, "Ask me again tomorrow."

Tomorrow seemed to arrive quicker than she expected. Glory nudged her awake just after six thirty and Callie dressed quickly, foregoing a second shower despite how much she wanted one. She shoved her legs into black canvas pants and pulled a dark gray tank top over her head, shrugging on the holster for her knives and the belt of thin throwing blades. She laced up her boots tightly and pulled her blond hair up into a high ponytail.

The three Captains were waiting for her when she stepped outside, Glory squeezing into the hallway after her. They all saluted her firmly, she returned the gesture.

Crowe spoke first, "We showed the men to the training ground. They know it's a reprieve day, but nobody wants to get soft. Rumor has it, nothing will be done for another month."

"Good," Callie said, "there are some issues that need resolution, yes. Keep them training, don't let them slack off. This is the same routine we have always stuck to, the only difference is our scenery."

Grouse glanced to the other Captains and back to her, "What is your agenda for the day, Commander?"

Callie hadn't thought much about that. She assumed now that Lark had always had a set agenda for himself, he seemed like that kind of a person. Callie wasn't she was more focused on the moment than on her plans for the day, "I'm not sure. I assume I'll be called back for another meeting at some point. Until then, I'm going to keep doing what I do best."

"What's that?" Grouse raised an eyebrow, sliced in half by an old scar.

"Train," she shrugged and pushed past them. Truthfully, she didn't know where she was going, but in the moment walking away seemed like the best decision to make.

Glory trotted up behind her and said in a low voice, "Up here it will open up and you can see the new Pit. It's a shorter route than you took last night."

Callie nodded, grateful he knew what she was thinking without asking her. She didn't wonder how he knew where she was last night, Glory had his own ways of knowing things. He was right, the hallway bloomed into an enormous open area, the Pit she had stumbled across last night. They seemed to be sharing the space with a large number of soldiers in dark green. Callie couldn't confidently call them soldiers, though. This seemed to be a secondary title for most of them, they had other lives and occupations that took precedence over their fighting. She couldn't help but compare her men to theirs, keeping a prideful grin at bay.

"Callie?" a familiar voice said her name and she looked up.

Sea green eyes were wide, staring at her, stunned. A mouth curved up into a bright smile with sparkling white teeth. Finnick extended a single lean, tan arm towards her, the other was held in a sling against his chest. Calliope seemed to fall forwards and grabbed on to him tightly with a cry of surprise.

"Finnick!" she said sharply, pulling back and looking down at his arm, "What happened?"

"It's just a break, nothing bad. I heard through the grapevine about you," he was kind enough not to cast her change in status in a bleak light, "I think I should be giving you a salute instead of a hug."

She shook her head fiercely, "If one more person salutes me, I will have to break their arm. You're already down one, I would feel bad."

Finnick laughed and let his eyes roam over her face for a moment, "It's good to see you again. It's better to see you found your way."

"I wouldn't have without you," she let her eyes shine a little with gratitude, "I would have stayed in my house and slowly crumbled into dust under the strain of pretending to be someone I wasn't."

"I'm sorry about your friends," he said gently, squeezing her upper arm.

"I'm sorry about yours," Coin had informed Calliope of all the captured Victors, Annie being among them in her state was horrible to hear. They would imprison a woman of questionable sanity just to make a point, to hurt Finnick. It was cruel and cold, but she expected nothing less from them. It wasn't a surprise to hear Annie had been arrested, it was just a bitter reality exposing the Capitol for what it was.

Finnick walked with Calliope for the length of the new Pit, recounting the tale of the Arena collapsing and the airlift out. He told her about the plan hatched in secret out of earshot of President Snow, the ingenuity of the bread he had given her, the daring alliance in the Arena, the entire arrangement of the Arena itself. Calliope listened intently, rapt in his storytelling. It was horrible, terrifying, admirable. In a way, she felt sorry for Finnick. Since he had become a Tribute, his entire life seemed to be built on a foundation of lies and tragedy.

Now Annie had been taken from him, his own Tribute he had trained was gone now. There was something else in his eyes when Calliope had mentioned her, some deep and secret pain that he tried to mist over with energetic stories. She thought she knew what it was, but asking would make it more painful. Finnick had only been moving freely through District 13 for a day or two, asking about Annie would feel like rubbing salt in a still-fresh wound.

"I hear you're deadly with a knife," Finnick said with a sly smile, "Show me."

"How do you even hear these things?" Callie said with a laugh. If she had a reputation, she deserved to know what it was.

"You don't become one of two female Commanders in the history of an entire army without a few people noticing," he shrugged, "You caught a lot of attention. Now, show me."

Finnick gestured with his good hand into the Pit. Men paused and looked up at them, the closest having heard the request. Calliope nodded and leaped over the railing onto the stairs, blatantly showing off her well-cultivated strength. She took the stairs two at a time and pulled two wooden training blades from a rack, trying to match the size of the ones at her back as closely as possible.

She looked up at the army of men and women in front of her and scanned their faces, "I need a partner."

Silence. Nobody stepped forwards, people shifted uncomfortably. Calliope frowned.

"I need a partner, not an organ. Come on, a week ago this wouldn't have been a problem," Calliope was suddenly feeling the weight of her position as Commander again. Nobody wanted to be the one to beat her, nobody wanted to be responsible for her ego or reprimanded if they hurt her.

Still, no one stepped forwards to spar with her. Finally, a voice chimed out, "I will."

The crowd parted like a stream around a rock. Tithe stood at the end of the parted crowd, walking deliberately forwards and pointing at his peers with an accusatory finger, "You all should be ashamed of yourselves. It's Calliope, she isn't made of glass."

"That's part of the reason nobody wants to spar with her," Grouse chuckled from behind her. Calliope turned quickly and watched him lean forwards on his rifle, balanced against the ground. Grouse shot her a sly wink and she felt a smile spread involuntarily across her face.

The men cleared a mat and Tithe grabbed a training mace, situating himself squarely in one of the two corners. Calliope stalked to her own corner and twirled the wooden knives in her fingers. Tithe wasn't a very good fighter, hardly a match for her, but his stepping up to be an example for the other soldiers merited her going easy on him.

The fight didn't last long even with the handicap she gave him. It was longer than it should have, but still not long. Calliope almost lost the upper hand to him when she hesitated, like she had with Glimmer all that time ago, and couldn't drive the wooden blade to a killing blow. Tithe missed the opportunity, hadn't noticed the hesitation, and tapped himself out before he could react to it.

Calliope hoisted herself off of him, having pinned Tithe underneath her, and offered him her hand. He got to his feet and lifted a hand to the hooting soldiers around them. Calliope squeezed and gave him a private smile, mouthing the words _Thank you_ at him before she let Tithe go. He gave her a single nod and let himself be absorbed by the pats of his comrades.

Calliope, chest heaving after the match, climbed the stairs more slowly this time. Finnick was holding a glass of water for her, lifting it when she reached the top of the stairs, "Impressive."

"I've been trapped in a mountain for a year, I've had some time to practice," Calliope drank the glass quickly and handed it off to one of the men passing by with a blue arm band, "When you're better, maybe I'll teach you."

Finnick opened his mouth to respond with a laugh, but a smartly dressed man approached the group with an air of authority. They both looked over at him, Calliope recognized him as the man from the first meeting who was hovering around Coin.

"Commander Cress, President Coin has requested your presence. If you would follow me," he gestured for her to lead and she watched him, cautious.

Alma Coin didn't sit right with Calliope for some reason. Something about the woman had the air of patient malice, she could boil a pot of grudges for so long they became tender and fell apart in your mouth. She chocked it up to politicians, bureaucrats just weren't her kind of people.

Calliope followed the man down the winding hallways and kept adding to her mental map. He gestured to the same door of the meeting room they had been in the day before and she stepped inside, hardly noticing Glory was right on her heels. He had become an accessory lately, not really something she expected to be anywhere else but with her. She took the same seat she had the previous day, nodding her greeting to Plutarch. He didn't respond, just watched her and idly tapped a pen against the table lightly.

Coin stood at a small podium at the front of the room, watching Calliope and waiting until she sat, "We will be rousing Katniss from sedation tonight. Once she is awake, we agree to broach the subject of our last meeting with her," Coin cleared her throat, "Now, we need to discuss our plan of attack."

They weren't wasting any time. Calliope left them an organized web showing the names and ranks of her men, their battalion colors, and their legions. She picked her own personal squad, delegated the non-combatants to supporting positions, and agreed to form her battalions into squads to be mixed with the forces of District 13. Her people would still report only to her and obey only her command, no orders given to them would be obeyed if they did not come from Commander Cress. Integrating forces strengthened morale and would make an organized army out of all of them.

Glory knew she was walking behind him on purpose when they left, but he didn't draw attention to it. She was exhausted, even though she would never admit it he knew it was true. Callie was trailing her fingers along the wall absently, quiet after the three and a half hour long meeting. Sleep hadn't come easily to her last night and Glory could feel it probably wouldn't again tonight. Subtly, he slowed his wide gait and let her catch up to him. It wasn't a body guard she needed, it was something else.

"How are you doing?" he said, his voice made her jump. She had told him to ask again today, so he did.

"Oh, uh, good I guess," Calliope gave Glory a noncommittal shrug.

He stopped her with a firm, heavy hand on her shoulder, "Callie," his eyes were softer than they had been in a long time, his tone gentle, "You were my friend before you were my Commander. Tell me what's going on in your head."

Calliope stared into his warm eyes and took in their concern for her. The truth of it was that she felt isolated, completely on her own. Her own friends had been forced to salute her, Glory had been established as her shadow instead of her confidante. She felt alone.

"It's isolating," she finally said, just saying it felt like a weight had heaved off her shoulders and dropped to the ground, "I have no friends, I only have soldiers. I can't give this to anyone else and I didn't ask for it," suddenly, she felt her own anger in her voice, "I didn't ask to be Commander, I didn't ask for Lark to die. Why would he put this on me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes for the first time in a long while, fierce and hot with her sudden rage at the unfairness of the world. Glory took off the mantle of protector he wore so proudly, shed himself of the Personal Guard skin. He wrapped two large arms around her and pulled her into a barrel chest so broad and thick she almost disappeared in it. Calliope let herself feel weak, vulnerable for a moment. She allowed herself the luxury of tears and stifled screams of rage. Glory didn't judge her, he couldn't. He had been there in the meetings, watched the changes in her the last couple of days since she took up the white band. It was a task he wished someone else would take over.

After a few minutes, Callie inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and pulled herself away from him. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sighed, straightening herself, "Thank you."

"I'm your friend before I am your soldier," Glory could feel the cloth he had put down rise back onto his shoulders, "Let's get you back to the compartment to sleep."

In the Captains' room, Grouse and Crowe sat at the round table, each nursing a glass of amber liquid. Prudence paced angrily and sighed, "She's still a kid," she roared.

"She will do a good job, you need to have faith," Crowe sighed and swirled the glass, making a small vortex in the brandy.

"This isn't right, you're passing up what's rightfully yours!" Pru sat in her chair so hard the table shook, "We agreed if something happened that it should be you in that chair, not some kid who's spent a year under our roof."

"Lark gave her the band," Crowe shrugged, his demeanor was calm, composed. So calm it made Pru's nerves scream.

"Lark did _not_ give her the band, she just thinks he did and you know it," her voice was scathing, acidic. She couldn't stand to be commanded by a child anymore.

"I'm not interfering unless there is a need to interfere," Crowe's eyes were dark, stern. So much authority radiated from them that Pru closed her mouth after she had prepared a scalding response, "There is no need for me to upend everything again. She will be a good Commander, she just needs Captains to guide her."

"She's a child," Pru muttered, snatching Grouse's glass and pouring the alcohol down her throat, "She doesn't need guidance, she needs to be put in the rank she deserves."

"And she deserves this one," Crowe fired back, annoyed finally, "Leave it alone, Prudence. If you bring this up again, I'll see to it you're send back to the lowest possible rank I can fit you into. I'll make sure you're under my command and you can bet I will break every corner of your spirit."

The threat was so plain and flat, so matter-of-fact that Prudence didn't say anything else. She stared into the empty glass, fuming. Rage and frustration swirled in her chest, she didn't understand why Crowe was letting this happen. They had agreed with Lark if anything were to happen, Crowe was to take up the band. Now, Crowe just sat there and let some little girl who barely filled out her own fatigues take the seat of command. It was an insult.

Grouse was silent when he stood up, snatching the glass from Pru and pouring another drink. Pru stared down at the table when she spoke, "What do you think, Arkin?"

Grouse grunted, considering his answer, "Crowe's right."

Short, to the point, typical Grouse. Pru couldn't hide her smile at how reliable Grouse was. She sighed heavily and turned her eyes back to Crowe, she gave a quick nod, "Fine. If she can't hold her own after the first attack, though, we tell her the truth. We tell her what Lark really said."

"Agreed," Grouse said, sitting back down. Crowe nodded assent.

In the Medical Wing, Gale felt the sheets moving under his head. He snapped himself awake, trying to shake sleep from his head as fast as he could. He watched Katniss writhing on the bed, struggling to come out of the sedation. She let out a soft groan and he moved to her side, reaching for her fingers.

Softly, he smiled down at her, running a hand over her forehead as her eyes fluttered awake, "Hey, Catnip."

"Gale," she croaked, "Where am I?"


End file.
